Curtain Call
by SneakAttack29
Summary: Yoshiko Kozaki, unseated member of Division 5, is dragged into a web of mysteries when a routine mission to the world of the living goes horribly wrong. What do you do when you realize that the very thing that could have saved your comrades' lives is the same as what got them killed in the first place? What do you do when you realize nothing was ever what it seemed? HitsugayaXOC
1. Curtain Call

**_Curtain Call_**  
 ** _By:_** SurreptitiousFox245

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just swiping the characters and universe for my own bit of fun.

 **Quick Author's Note** : I have no idea what I'm thinking starting a new fic right now when I've got two going currently, but hey! I'm in college. Stupid decisions are the norm, right?

Anyway, I've had this tumbling around in my head for a while. This chapter serves more as a prologue despite its length, so it's sketchy on some descriptions adn I do apologize. It ran away from me a little. Curtain Call takes place thirty years after the end of the manga (not the epilogue, but after the defeat of Ywach by Ichigo), and IS primarily going to be a mystery. However, despite my best efforts, there will be a bit of a romance lingering around in the background because I'm a sucker for it, so. This is also going to be posted on Archive of Our Own, so if you prefer reading over there, then it's under the same username. I dual post because I'm lame like that.

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1:**_ Curtain Call

* * *

" _You are the devil in disguise.  
I see the sins that are burning in your eyes.  
Watch the angels as they fall.  
Down to your knees, this is your curtain call._"

-" _Curtain Call_ ", State of Mine

* * *

 **I grimace for the tenth time** in the past hour, but as with the other faces I've pulled, it goes unnoticed by my comrades as we peer intently off of the roof of an abandoned skyscraper. I am okay with this until the third time, when the frowns become borne of suspicion instead of the unpleasant feeling of rain waterlogging my shihakusho. We all are soaked through, had been after spending more than fifteen minutes in the world of the living, and everyone is sour because of the weather and the Hollow we have yet to find. But I am the only one visibly upset for caution's sake, gripping my soul pager beneath my sleeve as if it is a lifeline.

Glancing at Tatsuyoru out of the corner of my eye, I have to marvel for not the first time that the sheer amount of pomposity he holds can be packed into one man. He is the ranking officer here, the one leading our mission as Fifth Seat, and he, like the other commanding officers I have had in my time as a Shinigami, is above listening to the _unfounded nerves_ of an unranked nobody. In theory, it does not work this way. In practice, however, _unseated_ is typically synonymous with _inexperienced_ and _insignificant_ , and I send my team leader a nasty glower before I quickly turn to my pager instead. The map displayed on the screen is frustratingly clear of dots even in the places I _know_ they should be. Another glance at Tatsuyoru, and my eyes narrow.

 _This man is going to get us all killed._

"Tatsuyoru-san," I say softly, one last effort to get him to listen. I know his type—he will sooner punish firmness as insubordination than listen to the concerns behind it. Deference is unfortunately the game I have to play with him. "Are we sure that this Hollow is not masking its presence?" He flicks his gaze, a startling violet, to me. He is glaring, but I expect it and don't flinch.

"Positive." Response clipped and terse, I can sense in both the bit of reiatsu he is leaking and in his posture that he is irritated. His mission is not going according to plan, and Tatsuyoru is not happy. "We have eyewitness reports from the posted sentinel and from observations carried out by Division 12 that it is mid-level at best. It would be a miracle for it to be able to. This was in the briefing, Kozaki, or were you not paying attention to the Captain?"

Gritting my teeth against the goading, I refuse to rise to the bait and reply demurely, " _Iie_ , I was listening. _Sumimasen_. I meant no disrespect." I bow my head and take a step back to fall in line with the other seven squad members, but my reiatsu is leashed tightly to prevent it flaring with my anger. I know the Fifth Seat knows why that aspect of my self is quiet. The other members of my squad do as well, but they are also aware of Tatsuyoru's unexplained distaste for me. In the thirty years I've been his direct subordinate, he has never liked me. One could even go so far as to say he hates me. For ten of those, I've also suspected my continuing unseated status has been his doing, though I can't prove anything.

He huffs his acceptance of my apology, though it is too obvious he is disappointed in not having anything to call me out on. "Fine. Sasada, Gushiken, Onishi—you're with me. We'll find it quicker if we split up." The three in question give each other hesitant looks—they apparently don't like this any more than I do—before Gushiken Suzu, ever the brave one, steps forward to follow the officer. I've always liked Gushiken-chan, though I've not known her long. She's got a level head on her shoulders and I don't doubt the green-haired girl will make seated officer within the decade. She was placed on Tatsuyoru's squad almost immediately out of the academy, which is rather impressive. The higher ranked the officer one is assigned to out of Shino, the more skilled the Shinigami is in theory. "Unranked" is a bit of a misnomer in this regard. As it is, it took me twenty years to weasel my way up from being on the Twelfth Seat's squad to Fifth Seat's, and I've been stationary for thirty.

I shake the thoughts away. Now is not the time.

Sasada Isamu, a bright young man with a plain face and an impressive skill in _kido_ that more than makes up for it, follows Gushiken-chan. Onishi Yuu is fiddling with the gold hilt of his zanpakuto when he sighs and joins his fireteam reluctantly. I consider Onishi-kun and Sasada-kun friends, and I am fond of Gushiken-chan as a comrade, so I am quick to notice their discomfort is mirroring my own. Something about this mission seemed wrong from the second we were briefed, and I am not shy about drawing attention to that. Sasada-kun and Onishi-kun, at least, trust my warnings and are treating this whole ordeal with the caution I believe it deserves.

Tatsuyoru Kohaku, on the other hand, is calm, if not a little annoyed at the delays we have faced, and that annoyance only deepens when he again lays violet eyes on me. His eyes have always unnerved me. They're too bright, just the _wrong_ shade, and they're always so blank. If eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul, then why are his devoid of one? "Ito, you take Ishikawa, Fujita, and Kozaki and take the western side. We'll go around and meet at the northernmost point of the city." Ito Akane is Tatsuyoru's unofficial second-in-command despite me being the squad member with the most experience aside from the officer. I do not begrudge her this, however, as she is a reasonable woman who takes her job seriously. While I may not particularly like the redhead, I _do_ respect her, and she saved my life on missions once or twice. Her brown eyes blaze with determination as she nods firmly.

Next to me, Ishikawa Hotaru groans a little. My best friend is about as fond of Ito-san as I am of Tatsuyoru. I nudge the blonde conspiratorially, to which I receive a tired, soggy grin. I wince. Yeah, I think in this instance everyone could sympathize with Hotaru and her defeated expression. And we haven't even _started_ this mission yet, not really. Not in earnest.

"Should we split up the groups, too, while we're at it?" Fujita-san grumbles, though it's under his breath and not meant to be heard. If Tatsuyoru or Ito-san do hear his complaints, they do not acknowledge him.

Our illustrious leader continues as if immune to the tension filtering into the air through the raindrops. He probably is, in retrospect. "Keep your pagers close and send out an alert if you find anything of note. If you come across the Hollow, you are free to engage."

"You don't think we ought to call for backup first?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think it through. Ito-san winces behind her curtain of blood-colored hair. She knows just as well what reaction will be garnered, and neither of us are disappointed.

Tatsuyoru's voice is chilled. "Do I need to remind you _again_ , Kozaki? The Hollow is mid-level _at best_. If any of you by yourselves are not able to dispatch of it, then you have no place here. Your fireteams are more than capable." Pursing my lips together into a tight, barely-restrained line, I remind myself that he is ignoring my warnings about the patterns being off. His concerns are not the same as my concerns, and he will not act accordingly.

My fist tightens around my pager. No buzzing, no blipping, no notifications. No roars of a beast on the wind, no dark reiatsu signatures in the air. The behavior being exhibited by this Hollow is smart, but Tatsuyoru is correct when saying that a mid-level Hollow would not hide itself like this. That he is not seeing the danger in this discrepancy alone is terrifying. That he is putting so much stock in eyewitness reports from an overworked sentinel and from Division 12 reports is terrifying. That he is not considering something more at play is terrifying. Even if this is what it appears at face value, disregarding the possibility…

 _This man is going to get us all killed_ , I can't help thinking again as I watch our two fireteams flicker away with bursts of _shunpo_. I take one last look at my pager screen. Nothing. With a sigh, I flip it closed and move to stow it in the inside pocket sewn into my kosode for safekeeping before following Ito-san, Fujita-san, and Hotaru. Fingers dig into my shoulder before I can turn to the left, however, and I am too stunned and too tired to stop the jump from coiling through me as I'm whirled around to face my superior. Reiatsu is shoved back as I have to nearly bodily force myself to not lash out at him from the shock. At my hip, I feel my zanpakuto pulse comfortingly, reminding me that she is available should I need her. She is all that keeps me from actually attacking with the realization that only myself and the officer remain on the rooftop.

"Yes?"

"Keep your mouth shut."

I blink up at Tatsuyoru because I can't quite fathom the words he just spoke to me. He is harsh with me, yes. Tricky. Trying to trap and box me into some form of discipline or trying to find where I go wrong so as to pin me with blame, to knock me down, but he has never been outright hostile. He may not listen to me, but he has never told me to quiet my concerns. He may disregard them, but he always _hears_. " _Excuse me_?" His grip on my shoulder tightens exponentially, and my eyes go wide at the bit of pain. The rain plastering dark strands of hair to his pale forehead bring out the unnatural quality of Tatsuyoru's eyes, and I am stricken with the visage he makes. I am not afraid of much. I am _not_ afraid of Tatsuyoru Kohaku. But it is a near thing in this moment.

" _Do not_ question my orders. Keep your ridiculous theories to yourself. I will have you brought up on charges of insubordination if you do so again, am I clear?" His words are hissed through gritted teeth, and his grip moves to my collar to lift me to my toes. With the rain and lack of balance, my waraji are hard pressed to find purchase on the concrete.

I do not notice. I'm too angry, too indignant at this blatant refusal to acknowledge me, to acknowledge that at _fifty years of service_ as a Shinigami, I know what I'm talking about. I'm not a green-nosed academy recruit, or the same scrawny kid practically barely off the streets of Rukongai like I was back then. And while it isn't the first time I've had my theory referred to as ridiculous or stupid or overreaching, I want to _scream_ because something is _seriously_ wrong here, and I don't understand how I'm the only one to see it.

Quietly, I reply in a deceptively soft tone. I do not scream, I do not yell, even as my throat burns for me to do so. "If you don't wish to hear my concerns, Tatsuyoru-san, then demote me to Sixth Seat Ikeda's squad." In contrast to my voice, I keep steady eye contact, a steady challenge at heartless amethysts and do not waver. Even as his reiatsu spikes quickly, I do not flinch. Our teams have noticed our absences by now. I know that, he knows that—we have little time for whatever reason it is he detained me. So, I am unsurprised when he releases his hold on me with a faint shove.

"You'd be my problem again in a decade," he gripes and then waves me away. "I gave you orders." I expect a threat about not reporting this to captain or lieutenant, but I am alarmed when moments of silence tick by without one. Finally, after a few beats and with apprehension adding another layer of discomfort in my gut, I turn and take steps towards the edge of the building.

Ignoring Tatsuyoru's eyes piercing into the back of my skull, I funnel reiatsu to my legs in preparation for _shunpo_. Hotaru's presence is barreling towards me, though if I start stepping now, I can meet her before she makes it to the roof and pass off my delay as…preoccupation with my pager? Yes, that should work. I move, and…

"Yoshiko." It is my quick thinking that saves me from tumbling off the edge of the skyscraper with a makeshift plate of reishi to balance on. The stumbling is probably comical. Bolting my head back to Tatsuyoru, I can't find words. I barely tolerate him calling me Kozaki with no honorifics, and that is only because he at the end of the day remains my superior and does it to everyone, sans the captain. Calling me by my given name, however, is uncalled for. But he looks unfazed like he hasn't done anything strange, no different than when he callously raised me off the ground or when he was giving orders to the fireteams. He is collected, maybe a bit annoyed. His eyes are cold and flat and _nothing_ as per usual, but his voice…I can't describe it. It's not something I've heard from him before, though. He repeats words, but they're _different_ somehow.

" _Keep your mouth shut_."

He's gone before I can blink, before I can process, and this is how Hotaru finds me another split second later—staring overwhelmed and confused at a spot on the rooftop like I'd somehow just watched a ghost write their own eulogy.

* * *

 **The makeshift patrol is uneventful.** I check my pager every second step and am further agitated when I find _nothing_ on the screen. I've been jumpy since the second time I looked, and we're barely halfway along the arc to our destination. Ito-san is stopping briefly every so often to allow me my monitoring, but I know she is merely humoring me. She appreciates my caution, but she doesn't believe me either. No one wants to believe me when I say that beasts have behavior and that means they on some level have personality. It means they're predictable. It means they're _relatable_ , though, and relatable is harder to kill. So they don't listen to the _unseated_ Shinigami and blind themselves to the patterns that the creatures follow. They don't listen when I tell them that a mid-level Hollow randomly appearing and disappearing is masking itself, and it would only mask itself if it is told. They argue that it's _not_ masking its presence and I am delusional, that a mid-level Hollow doesn't hide its presence because it _can't_ , not because it is too brash to see the need as the string of bodies and chaos and devoured plusses it leaves behind indicates. They argue that trying to see the creatures as people _like they bloody tell us they were before corruption_ is "dangerous", and that it impairs my ability to cleanse them properly. It fosters guilt, and guilt is the parent of hesitation. Hesitation gets Shinigami killed.

Or so they claim. I disagree. Of course I disagree, it is my theory being labeled as a fantasy. But I'm caught in a godforsaken web of frustration where I _know_ almost beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am right, while also being stuck understanding why no one wants to believe me. Why it is easier to label me a madwoman and relegate me to the masses of unranked soldiers to keep me out of sight, out of mind, and still useful. I learned an understanding of behavior that is both a blessing and an unsightly curse. We _know_ that Hollows are corrupted conglomerations of human souls, we _understand_ that any one of us Shinigami could be the remnant of a purified Hollow—but applying my theory to hunting them? That makes it too real. That makes it too tangible. It is oft easier to close one's eyes to the light than to physically reach over and extinguish it—this does not require _feeling_ the heat on top of seeing its glow.

Hotaru lays a hand on my shoulder sympathetically, and I flip the pager closed again. "Everything's going to be fine, Yoshi-chan." I don't like the nickname, but I learned with her a long time ago to just go with it. I send her a strangled smile before flash-stepping away to follow Ito-san. Hotaru trusts me, trusts my instincts. But even she doesn't _believe_ me, and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't hurt.

We stop in a wooded clearing just barely on the outskirts of town. It's hidden enough to warrant some checking, if only for lost souls, and the four of us fan out like a well-oiled machine. Perhaps there is some tension in the group, but we work together well. It's why we're a team. The rain has let up by now, but the grass is still wet and the dirt is little more than mud. I look down at my waraji and tabi in distaste, knowing that the second we are done with this mission, a thorough cleaning is going to be in order.

Fujita-san kicks at a stick, only to grumble when the action sends a muddy spray to speckle his face. "What are we even looking for? Hollows aren't exactly quiet."

"Quiet! We're definitely not going to hear it over your yapping!" Hotaru scolds good-naturedly, playfully smacking the brunette on the back of the head. He sends her a scowl, but as with her rebukes, it isn't serious. The two aren't actually siblings, but they were raised like it in Rukongai and act the part. It never fails to be amusing, actually, even though I've never been close to Fujita Takeshi as with Hotaru.

Ito-san is quick to silence them both. "Something is interfering with the sensors. And if it's quiet, then it's probably feeding. Keep looking."

"I don't know," the male says back, rubbing the nape of his neck almost sheepishly. "I'm actually with Kozaki-chan on this one. Something's not right, Ito. You can't tell me you haven't felt it, too."

The redhead's jaw clenches and face pulls like she just ate something sour. She's been on edge, too—we've all felt it in her reiatsu, though she's not going to admit it. I have to wonder what Fujita-san thinks he's going to get with asking her such. "Do your jobs, dammit."

My blonde best friend bristles. "We _are_ doing our jobs, you red-haired bi—!"

" _Hotaru!_ " I hiss, smacking her shoulder harshly enough that she is startled into quieting. She pouts at me, but any retort she has to fire back is interrupted by a rumble.

No, not a rumble, a _roar_. Several of them.

Our second-in-command starts, jerking her soul pager out of her kosode when it starts beeping and crying in tandem with mine, Fujita-san's, and Hotaru's. I grab my own in lieu of watching her reaction, and my breath catches when I see not one, not two, but _three_ dots appear on the grid-like map of the human city we were scouting. And what's worse is that they appear out of _nowhere._ There isn't a garganta nearby and there was no sign of reiatsu fluctuation consistent with a soul transforming into a Hollow, much less _three_ of them. One is heading towards our group, and I watch as two others veer off to Tatsuyoru, Gushiken, Onishi, and Sasada's approximate location. I quickly sweep for reiatsu and my dread doubles. Correction—the two are heading for their _exact_ location.

And the two are bigger than we thought. The blips are the wrong color for mid-level. These are menos. Adjuchas.

I curse silently. "Ito-san—!"

"I know," she replies. She sees them, too. The woman scrutinizes the alerts for a split second more before looking at me, her face drawn and serious and a bit scared if I'm honest. "The one heading here is lower class, so it shouldn't be an issue. Kozaki, I want you to go help Tatsuyoru-san and his group, and when we're done here, we'll meet up with you. Assess the situation—if you don't feel it's winnable, call a retreat. We'll meet at point of origin and summon a Senkaimon." I want to argue, but I know I will not win. Ito-san is known for her stubbornness, and I do ultimately trust her orders. We both recognize that I _will_ be calling the retreat—even in a group, we have no hope of defeating even one Adjuchas level Hollow, seated officer or not, and everyone knows that. She is trying to be optimistic, but I have to wonder if this is the time, or if she is simply trying to save face.

"Right," I nod, and I am gone before I hear a reply, flash-stepping on the wind and hoping I make it in time. Before I reach the area I feel the Adjuchas coalescing around, I sense a simultaneous drop and spike in reiatsu. I'm unsure what it means, but the spike was Tatsuyoru and I assume it means he released his zanpakuto. My own is not drawn, but I grip Fūmittsu's hilt until my knuckles pale.

The area I come upon is empty, curiously, and bathed in darkness. I feel nothing. The reiatsu has vanished, both Hollow and Shinigami. Cautious as I advance through a cement-covered lot, paying attention to the flow of reiatsu and reishi around me so ardently, my feet stumble over something laying on the ground and I trip. Taking a few steps to regain my balance, I look down at the object that stumbled me, only to meet a broken zanpakuto as it begins dissolving back into particles. My eyes go wide. That was Sasada's blade—I recognize the black cloth.

He's dead. Recently. Zanpakuto begin dissolving…thirty seconds after the death of their wielder?

 _One hundred twenty_ , my own zanpakuto corrects softly in my mind, but it doesn't really matter. He is still recently dead, and I am questioning whether my inability to sense my comrades' reiatsu is because my senses are being dulled or because they are dead. There's a trail of blood away from where the weapon was, and I regretfully follow it to Sasada's corpse. His eyes are wide in death. Surprised? Pain? I can't tell. But he was gouged, thick, deep wounds lining his torso. It is gruesome, and while I've seen worse, it is different on a friend. I look away.

"Hello!" I call into the warping shadows, seeing things within them I know are not there. They leap out at me and stretch fingers that never reach. It's unnerving. "Tatsuyoru-san! Onishi-kun! Gushiken-chan! _Anyone_!"

" _Damare!_ " a voice quickly wheezes from my right. I pause, then dart to it, collapsing next to the body once I identify him as Tatsuyoru. The word makes me freeze. _Damare_. _Shut up_. Not fifteen minutes ago he was telling me to be quiet for another reason, and I feel like there's some sort of irony to that.

He is on his back, wounded, zanpakuto only loosely gripped in his hand. It is sealed, so I assume his shikai was dropped when he was injured. I worry the marks on his shoulders, staining his shihakusho, and mine, with blood. A lot of blood. Why did I never pay attention to kaido lessons? Still, my hands glow green as I do what I can to begin restoring my superior's reiatsu and try knitting the wound shut.

I don't get far. His hand, bloody and slick and _cold_ , darts up to grip my wrist. Ordinarily, I figure it would've been bruising, but in his weakened state, it has barely any pressure. "Don't. G'back."

"I can't," I stress, my attempt at kaido fizzling out with my concentration. "I need to evacuate you. Where are Gushiken and Onishi?" I forego honorifics in haste. There is no time for formalities.

Tatsuyoru coughs, and I think I see more blood dribble down his chin. It is not reassuring. His eyes meet mine, and where they are usually piercing, now they are dull and frantic. There is emotion in his gaze. It's something I'm not used to, and I start. "Gone. Go. Trap."

My brow furrows, and I ask, "What do you mean?" Or, I mean to ask. I don't finish the question, because Tatsuyoru is suddenly lunging up and pushing me from my crouch to land painfully on my elbows. The move is seriously weak, but it was enough as I catch sight of something twisted, gnarled, and _sharp_ swinging through the air where my head had been. Instead of my head, though, it catches a length of my hair and digs into the remainder of my superior's chest. I think I scream. Maybe. I don't know. I'm not thinking clearly when I feel Tatsuyoru's reiatsu completely _vanish_.

Scrambling to my feet, I grab the hilt of my zanpakuto just in time to catch the claws that killed the Fifth Seat swinging at me again. True to her nature, Fūmittsu pulses and a gust of wind helps me draw her uchigatana form from the sheathe in a flash to sever the limbs before the beast knows what's happening. I use _shunpo_ to put some distance between myself and this thing I can barely see, but it turns out to be unnecessary. The darkness lightens enough for me to make out the form of one of the Adjuchas, a lumbering beast of red skin and a typical white mask twisted into a fox-like sneer. Absentmindedly, I find it amusing that the thing doesn't have any tails. Shadows spiral back into the hole in the center of its chest. They had been artificial, then.

It roars in pain. I managed to sever three of its fingers before it was able to retract its hand, and it is bleeding black blood. It's also _angry_ , but it hesitates. Landing one hit was lucky, a result of catching it unawares with the quick-draw my uchigatana is best at, but I'm unsure if I can really defend against it. I have to try, though. Bringing Fūmittsu up in a ready stance, I prepare myself for a hit that never comes. Instead of attacking, the Adjuchas watches me a moment, then takes a few steps back. Then more. And within moments, it is leaping off to the west.

I don't understand. Why wouldn't it attack? Adjuchas rely on devouring souls to remain Adjuchas—without it, they revert to a Gillian. And I am a Shinigami. Sasada was a Shinigami. Tatsuyoru was a Shinigami. We are tasty wells of reiatsu. Me, I'm a living target and harder to catch, though not by much. But Sasada and Tatsuyoru—why not eat them? Why just kill them and leave the bodies? And then why not attempt to kill me?

Where is the second one? My eyes narrow as I search for reiatsu and find none but the residual of my comrades and the Hollow that just went westward. I glance over at Tatsuyoru's body, now mangled. Trap…what had he meant by…?

" _Kuso!_ " Violently cursing, I _shunpo_ as fast as I can back to where my fireteam had been. _West_. My team was to the west and the Hollow went in that direction. The lower level Hollow, the two stronger Hollow going after the group with the ranking member. The _areas_ where the teams were when we got the alarms, when the Hollows showed themselves.

They were funneling us in, but we didn't respond how we should have. We held our ground. I've _seen_ this tactic somewhere. I can't remember where, but I _have_ seen it. Why Hollows are using it… In between steps, I pull my pager out and send a request for reinforcements, and after a split second of contemplation I forward the message to my lieutenant. I don't know when or if they'll be granted, and I know I'm breaking protocol in doing it instead of Ito-san, but I hope I'll be given leeway considering the circumstances.

 _If they'd bloody listened to me…!_

I appear in the clearing in a flurry of fabric and fear. Darkness is again unnaturally blanketing the area, cutting off my vision and ability to sense reiatsu. However, I can barely make out a hunched outline and can hear something crunching. Wincing, I bring my hand up.

The kido is quick to build, and I fire it without an incantation. " _Hado #32—Oukasen!_ " The arc of yellow makes direct contact, but it barely stuns the creature. It glances back at me, the same fox Hollow from before, and it appears irritated with me again. Dropping whatever—whomever—it had been eating, the shadows retract again as it charges a cero. Curiously, its attack is grey in color, but I can't analyze it further before I'm forced to _shunpo_ out of the way.

My pager chirps a response to my request. That's quick…I don't look, but a response is a good thing. I'm going to need to hold out until they get here anyway, and releasing my zanpakuto _will_ garner attention from Soul Society. " _Himei,_ _Fūmittsu_!" She pulses, and in a gust of aptly shrieking wind my grey-wrapped uchigatana splits into a set of identical tantō. The double-edged _kissaki-moroha_ is dull like the blade of Fūmittsu's sealed form, and the hilts are wrapped in dingy white fabric to aid with grip. The tsuba on both is identical to the swirled oval of its sealed state, and I feel the air along my skin prickle in anticipation. My mind feels alive with my zanpakuto released, and her humming in the back of it signifies that she agrees.

The Adjuchas prepares to fire another cero at the nuisance that is my person, but I shove my right tantō with a twist of my wrist. The air surrounding it suddenly heats until the oxygen in it ignites. I lose control over it when the gas turns to plasma, and it does little real damage. However, the attack distracts it enough that its cero fizzles. I've seriously pissed it off now, and it decides to forego anything but trying to smash me to bits this time. My tantō won't really harm it themselves, so I flash step out of the way if its remaining claws and begin a game where it tries to crush me, I dodge, and try to catch it on fire. I try freezing it once, but it just breaks the thin layer of ice that begins to crawl on it before I can get far. There isn't enough time between attacks for me to set up my usual offense, and given the strength of the Hollow I'm fighting, I doubt it would even work as intended.

 _Attack, dodge, fire_. _Attack, dodge fire_. Repeat. Again, and again, and again, until my reiatsu is depleted and it manages to catch my side with a claw. Aside from a few burn marks along its skin, the Adjuchas appears unharmed, and it glowers down at me with its mask.

I cry out when I land on my back. Fūmittsu's blades fly out of my hands with the ensuing flailing, and the tantō glow before reforming into her uchigatana. She is out of arms reach, her despair clearly felt through our bond. I'm too busy staring up at the Hollow. The pain lancing through my side is excruciating, and I'm bleeding more from the wound than I think I should. I check it. No, it's just that deep.

I'm going to die here, I realize numbly, the thing's mask inches from my face. I'm going to die here, and I knew I was going to—I tried warning them that something was wrong with this mission. No one listened, and now we are all going to be transported back to Soul Society in body bags. It's an infuriating thought, if not a little selfish, to think that this all could have been avoided. I am dying for _nothing_.

It is anger that I feel as I see the blade suddenly protrude from the Hollow's mask, and I'm unconscious before that anger has time to morph into incredulity.

* * *

 **Final Words** : I owe y'all some translations, so let's get right on that before I forget.

 _Iie:_ No

 _Sumimasen:_ Excuse me

 _Damare:_ Shut up; considered a rude way of saying so

 _Kuso:_ Shit, used as an interjection

 _Himei:_ Shriek, Fūmittsu's release command

 _Fūmittsu:_ Literally "Third Wind"; the name of Yoshiko Kozaki's zanpakuto. Fūmittsu is a wind-type.

 _Uchigatana:_ A type of Japanese sword, the descendant of the _tachi_. Uchigatana can be translated to mean "sword to strike with", and their initial use was only by people of a lower class. However, during the Momoyama Period, the combined use of a long and short uchigatana (the pairing called a _daisho_ ) eventually became the symbol of the samurai class. The blade is typically between 60-70 cm, can easily be wielded one-handed due to its thinness and a shorter tang reducing its weight, and is worn edge-up unlike the _tachi_. This and its lighter, shorter structure make the uchigatana more maneuverable to use and the typical weapon used for quick-draw techniques.

 _Tanto:_ The tanto is essentially a dagger; the term literally translates to "short blade".

 _Kissaki-moroha:_ A rare tanto blade type that has a double-edged point-the point's back edge curves down slightly so that the point is lower than the edge, something uncommon with ordinary tanto where the back edge of the point is usually in line. A wide groove is often set in the base half of the blade.

I apologize for any misinformation, particularly with the blade types. I googled, but that can only tell me so much. Also, I didn't realize until after I created Yoshiko and her zanpakuto that Fumittsu is sort of similar to Muguruma Kensei's zanpakuto Tachikaze, at least in them being wind-types whose shikai is a knife. The similarities were entirely unintentional.

Anyway, thanks for reading! R&R!  
~SurreptitiousFox


	2. Nature of Infinity

_**Curtain Call  
By:**_ SurreptitiousFox245

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just a fan who likes playing imaginary dolls with the characters like a weirdo.

 _ **Quick Author's Note**_ : Ahh, another chapter! I've got a bad bout of bronchitis and SHOULD be resting, but I typed this up instead because the reviews, favs, and follows that I got on last chapter inspired me so much. See what you guys to do to me? You not only make me neglect the essays I have to do for my victimization and social institutions classes, but you make me neglect my health! For shame!

I totally love you guys for it!

*Ahem* anyway, moving on. In all seriousness, I really do appreciate the feedback I got on last chapter. I introduce a canon character for a conversation in this one, so I really hope I got the characterization right. I'm going back through and rewatching relevant episodes as I write, but I apologize if I got it wrong on any level. Please let me know! I strive to improve and can't do that without feedback!

Hope y'all like this one! Enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2:**_ Nature of Infinity

* * *

" _Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,_

 _And shares the nature of infinity._ "

-William Wordsworth

* * *

 **I am in pain and haze** as I drift between unconsciousness and waking. At one point, Fūmittsu pulls me into my inner world, but it is a tumultuous few seconds (minutes? I can't tell) at best. All I receive from her is a mournful look that answers none of my questions and calms none of my fears. That she is upset is ordinarily of little consequence. She, like the wind she is named for, can be tumultuous and change in an instant, but more often than not finds her calm and gentle, soft like an autumn breeze. My zanpakuto does not enjoy being sharp. She does not enjoy shrieking and howling, though she conversely is not above growing claws when the necessity demands. And just like anger, it is rare that she is waterlogged with melancholy or fogged with despair. So her helplessness is… _jarring_.

It's like floating, in a way. I'm conscious of the rain falling on me, and then it suddenly isn't and I'm in a blank void. Then I'm awake again, and there's mud and muck around me with calm skies and sunlight ruined by the stench of death. Blackness once more. And on and on. Cyclical. Why am I here, again? Right, I was injured. The mission went wrong. Then I forget and go about the process of reminding myself anew, back to the dream-like fog that is as blissful as it is wrong.

The next thing I really remember with any clarity are the voices, distant at first, and then they solidify. It feels like it's been hours, I think, since I called for assistance. Since I let Lieutenant Hinamori know of the situation in a snap decision that is unlike me but I can't help but figure probably saved my life. There is a sneaking suspicion that the official channels would have hemmed and hawed on the issue until it was too late, then shrugged and said "oh well".

I suddenly think back to Sasada and Tatsuyoru, and amend that in many regards, it is already too late. But I need to let them know that something was wrong. I can die when Soul Society has been warned about… _whatever the hell is going on here_ , and not a moment sooner.

Someone kneels next to me and I hear a slur of words that I'm too tired to make out. I try to open my eyes. It doesn't work, and until I feel a wash of kaido run over me and begin repairing my depleted reiatsu, I don't have the strength. Slowly, ever so slowly, I am able to lift my gaze. The sky is dark now, devoid of clouds, and the stars sparkle through the haze of the city. I grin a little. Maybe. I think, but I don't really know.

There's more shuffling, and the medic who had been working on me is pulled back. I'm still tired, I try to pout. Let him keep healing me! The words don't form, and I'm left staring into two sets of eyes, one turquoise and the other brown. I catch a flash of golden blonde off to another side, as well as a paler shade of yellow. These four reiatsus are horribly familiar, but I can't quite place them and can barely even feel them. Two white haoris do make a brief appearance, so I'm assuming there's some important people here. Captain Hirako? Possibly. It's reassuring. Of course they would send captains to deal with two Adjuchas. I wonder briefly if they've gotten them yet.

"Kozaki…," I make out from a familiar voice. My lieutenant? I think so. She's fading in and out, like everything else around me. "…survivor." Hmm…survivor…they don't think I'm dying, then. That's good news, I guess.

I feel the pain in my gouged lungs as I try to lift my hand on that side. It steals my breath, so I switch to the other one. Grasping. My fingers find a sleeve and are weak where I want them to be unrelenting. I _have_ to get the information out. I _have_ to do it, have to convey the urgency and that _something is not right here_ , but I'm weak and tired and drained.

Was this how Tatsuyoru felt when I found him? That thought doesn't make me feel any better.

" _Trap_ ," I mean to be firm, but my voice is barely a rasp, lost on the wind. The sets of eyes I see focus on me more sharply, though, so I heave another shaking, shuddering breath to try again. "Trap. Mission was… _wrong_. W-were hid-hiding. Organized—!" I'm coughing and crying out in pain before I can finish the sentence, and one of them tries shushing me. I'm so _tired_ , it's all I can do to keep my eyes open as the pain dies a little and I settle again. My gaze is oddly blurry, but I trail it to look at the kosode I'm grasping, and go further to see the white haori and uniquely colored eyes. I think I know who this is now, but I'm too far gone to consciously make the connection. Still, something in the back of my mind laughs at the position I'm in. I ordinarily would have gone out of my way to _not_ speak directly to a captain, and here I was being so blunt and informal and bleeding all over one, prone and showing far too much weakness. _In front_ of another, no less.

One could say I have some trust issues after the Aizen incident. One would be correct.

I keep eye contact steady with Captain Hitsugaya as I start to fade out again. Trying to convey the desperation, the fear, _everything_ that I want to say and can't in that look. I get one of grim understanding back— _they were waiting for us, this was planned, there's too much not right_ —and it is enough for me to let myself slide under again.

* * *

 **Division 4 is what greets me** when I wake next. There's a sense of urgency, panic when I try to bolt upright. I'm clawing and grasping at bindings that aren't there, chains that aren't real, remnants from nightmares that plagued me while I was asleep. It doesn't last long. I'm quickly jarred from my waking dreams of reaching shadows and claws that don't miss when the aching makes itself quite apparent. My limbs ache, my joints ache, my eyelids ache. Everything aches, and then some. I lower myself back to the medical bed as nonchalantly as I can with a wince, but it's too late as I see one of the nurses hustle her way towards me from the other side of the room.

"Kozaki-chan!" she exclaims, brows pinched in worry.

"- _san_ ," I want to correct. " _Kozaki-san!_ " But I don't have the mental wherewithal, and it dies in my throat before I can so much as croak. I still allow the nurse to help me ease myself into an upright position without putting any more undue strain on my overtaxed body. She's jabbering on about some thing or another as she needlessly fluffs pillows, but I pay her no attention. I'm too busy trying to talk to Fūmittsu in my mind. Not having her physical presence at my hip or in arm's reach is nerve wracking on a level I can't quite explain.

The Third Wind whistles in the back of my conscious, but I can't make out any words. "My zanpakuto," I carelessly interrupt my caretaker mid-sentence. "Where's my zanpakuto?" Where I expect her to be cross with me, the nurse only gives a soft, small smile and points behind her to the door. It is undoubtedly not the first time she's had to deal with traumatically injured Shinigami who have been separated from their sword, and it makes me feel the slightest bit better about my rudeness in hindsight.

"It's with your captain. I'll send for it once I get your vitals."

I'm not pleased, but I let her have her way and she leaves me to the silence a few moments later. The recovery room is bland, but I count myself lucky that I got a private room. Well, not lucky, per se. I'm unseated and I got a private room—they were either expecting an outburst from me upon waking (which I kind of _did_ do, so I suppose that in and of itself rationalizes things) or I had lashed out in my sleep. Neither is too reassuring. I've already been through a battery of psych evaluations after Aizen's betrayal thirty odd years ago—I don't want more. I really, really don't want more.

I also don't want to admit that I might need it. I blink and see Sasada's mangled body. I blink again and I see Tatsuyoru's face before the claws ripped apart his chest. Once more and I see the Adjuchas' silhouette as it munches on one of my comrades; I can't tell who. A final time, and—

 _Keep your mouth shut_.

Grey-hazel eyes fly open, and they stay open. He told me to stay quiet, and like a prophecy, I found him in the silence and jabbered like a fool. Had my talking to Tatsuyoru caused the Hollow to find us in that blackness? Am…am I… He pushed me out of the way. Am _I_ the reason he died?

"Y'ougtta' quit that." A voice startles me out of my musings, and I jerk my head up to look at the doorway. Captain Hirako stands in the frame, yellow blond hair, creepy grin and all. The tie around his neck that is tucked into his shihakusho I've always found strange, but it's a remnant of his time in the world of the living so I don't question too hard. Particularly so because I catch sight of my zanpakuto held in his hand, at his side, her hilt almost grungy and her sheath scuffed. It doesn't matter how much I polish her, Fūmittsu always looks worn, borderline abused. She claims it's because she doesn't want to stand out, but I don't think she realizes that in a world where zanpakuto are diligently cared for with pride, constantly looking neglected makes her do just that—stand out.

I say absentmindedly, "Sir?" I'm too busy staring hungrily at my uchigatana, probably looking longing like a starved hawk being taunted with a mouse. I don't care. I just want my sword back, and my captain obliges this silent request with an amused chortle.

"That self-blame thing ya' got goin' on. Ain't gonna' help ya' in the long run."

Frowning, I grip Fūmittsu tightly to me even as she hums her contentment. "What're you—?"

"Don't bother," Captain Hirako says not unkindly, but unexpected all the same. "What you've been through. It's written on your face, clear as day."

Mind blank, I just stare at my captain. I've never actually spoken to him before now. I'd only ever spoken to Aizen once, when I was accepted to Division 5. The only time I've said any words to Captain Hirako Shinji was when he was reinstated as captain, and that was only a courteous _hello_. He mostly talked to Tatsuyoru that day. That and the lingering mistrust of the motives of captain level Shinigami contributes to my silence, but I mostly just can't find words to say.

He stares back expectantly, but when I fail to respond, his grin falls and he looks frighteningly serious. "Are y'alright?" I blink because… _what_?

"I'm…," I begin, searching for anything that won't make me sound like more of an ass, "…not dead?"

Mission: failure. Idiot status: recognized.

At least, I think, but my captain beginning to laugh is not something I expect as I peer up at him from the medical bed. Fūmittsu huffs from the back of my mind, to add insult to injury.

 _You're a Shinigami, Yoshiko_ , she says, amusement clear in her voice which is wry with mocking. I deign not to respond to her in a childish display of embarrassed petulance I'm not ever going to admit to. She's further amused. I ignore her. It's a practiced routine.

Captain Hirako seems to be enjoying himself immensely, as he calms down and wipes a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye. I think it's for show, but hell. I'm probably doped out of my mind on healing kido and foreign reiatsu at the moment. It would certainly explain my behavior. "That's a good one! I'm gonna' have to borrow that sometime, if ya' don't mind."

"S-sure…?" What…what do I even _say_ to that?! I'm so far out of my element right now _that I'm in it_!

And in some universe, that sentence makes sense!

"Seriously, though," he says again, though the grin is back and I have to question how serious he really is. "Y'got banged up pretty bad. But ya' did hold your own for a while. Gotta' say I'm kinda' impressed there. Not every day an unseated Shinigami kills a Menos."

My mouth hinges for a few seconds. "I-I what? I'm sorry, sir, but…I saw one die, but I thought one of _you_ killed it. Before I passed out." His posture, his expression doesn't outwardly change, but I see something shift in Captain Hirako's eyes that I'm not sure I like. He goes from being curious to suspicious as if someone flipped a switch, and it makes my stomach lurch uncomfortably.

"That so?"

"Y-yes, sir."

His eyes scan the room quickly before he grabs at one of the chairs set aside for visitors, drags it over to my bedside, and makes himself comfortable before I can protest. The toothy grin remains fixed in place, but it's not quite as wide as before. "I think I'd like to hear exactly how things went down, then." I stare a little.

Then I tell him.

Every little detail of that failed mission comes pouring out of my mouth in a flood of words I don't think I can stop if I try. Captain Hirako just…listens. Kami only knows why he's here and why he's dealing with me directly. I'm a no one. But he is, and so I talk. I don't trust him. I don't know him, not really. But I talk.

I outline my theory on Hollow behavior, which earns me an eyebrow quirk, but that's not given time as I swiftly move on to my suspicions. The mission was to take the reports from the sentinel, data from Division 12, and latent reiatsu signatures and manually search the city for the Hollow. There had to be something in the town messing with our sensors, was the argument. So we were told to find that, too.

My disagreement, my adamancy that this mid-level Hollow was masking itself on and off was brushed off as…I don't know. Some fanciful imagining, some paranoid delusion of a stalled unseated Shinigami? I recount everyone's unease, and Tatsuyoru's indifference, as we separated into fireteams. His rebuke when went to leave, his almost eerie warning. Then when we got the alerts, the mid-level and the Adjuchas, how they went after the two teams _exactly_. Like they knew where we were even when we had been masking our reiatsus to levels that wouldn't be out of place for an ordinary plus. They shouldn't have been able to designate us from other souls, at least not without a longer period of observation. Not when they weren't showing up on our sensors. So they had known exactly where we would be, where each team would be, and I suspect who was where. The two highest level Hollows going after the team with the seated officer? How can I see that as accidental?

Captain Hirako looks oddly contemplative when I tell him of how I found Sasada dead and Tatsuyoru injured. He watches when I explain how Tatsuyoru died, touching the ends of my hair that I now realize are evened out from where the same claws had jaggedly snagged them. My captain grips something in his sleeve as I explain this part, but he says nothing. So I move on to when I realized the single Adjuchas was moving to go after my team, when I sent the distress call, when I also came to the conclusion that the Hollows were trying to box us in. Then finding the creature and trying to stall it long enough for help to arrive, clueless as to where the other two Hollows were but only having enough time and energy to focus on the one I could see. I finish with it catching me in the side, falling, it looming over me and the anger I felt before it was stabbed through and I lost consciousness.

I'm crying by the end, but he does me the service of not mentioning it.

"So y'think they were tryin' to trap ya'?" muses the blond, though it's almost absentmindedly. I still nod.

"Yes." I'm insistent, uncharacteristically firm through my exhaustion and the bit of pain that lingers. "I'm positive. And…and I think the only reason it didn't work was because…"

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Because…?"

My eyes blink back more tears, sliding to and from as I weigh my options. Finally, I sigh, long and deep and exhausted. "Tatsuyoru-san detained the two of us. The two fireteams had to come back and retrieve us when they realized we were taking so long. We should have been closer to the meeting point when the Hollows registered. I know how Tatsuyoru-san and Ito-san operate… _operated_. If we were closer to the regrouping point, we would have just met there and tried to take the three Hollows as a squad instead of teams. But we were too far from each other. I think they figured it was pointless to try regrouping. Ito-san sent me to help Tatsuyoru-san's team, but other than that, everyone stood their ground."

"That's implyin' the Hollows knew how you'd work. Knew you'd circle around."

"I-I know. It sounds crazy, but I just _know_ it wasn't an accident!" I'm shaking a little as I grip both Fūmittsu and the blanket that rests over my legs. I can't look at Captain Hirako, can't bring myself to, but he doesn't seem to like that and angles his head awkwardly so he can fix me with a firm stare that is deadpan serious in a way I've never heard of him being.

I'm ready to cringe back, but before I can, he asserts, "It's okay, Kozaki-kun. I believe you."

It's not something I'm used to hearing. In fact, I think I don't hear him correctly at first and am left staring down at my lap in first bafflement, and then sheer awe. No one has ever told me they believe me. No one. Not ever. Not about my theory, not about something on as large a scale as this, not even my brother when I told him that I was going to be a Shinigami. People don't take what I say at face value. I've never understood why, but it understandably got worse after Aizen's betrayal, when Division 5 got buried in that rut of disrespect and suspicion all members, seated or not, had to work to dig ourselves out of. People have never believed me, but then again, I've never _really_ fought for what I say, not in earnest, preferring not to argue. I'm not a fan of conflict. I've never defended myself like this before, small as it is, and I have a fleeting, half-humorous thought that maybe being injured and mentally traumatized is good for me.

At the same time… I slowly look up at Captain Hirako through my lashes and shortened hair, suddenly unerringly suspicious. I think Fūmittsu whines her disagreement, but for once, I disregard her. She is my zanpakuto, but in a lot of ways she was not as affected by Aizen's betrayal as I was. No, I never interacted with the man, or any of the captains who defected. But as a member of one of the divisions involved, I had to pay the price for it.

"I… _why_?" I'm chagrinned to see that my questioning only serves to amuse my captain, at least outwardly. He huffs a laugh and replaces that weird grin. I don't get it.

"Because it makes sense!" the man chortles, looking almost like he just watched a child make a mistake that won't be reprimanded so it can be learned from. It makes me shift uncomfortably. "Why else? There's no reason for ya' to _lie_. Didn't I say I could see it on your face?"

My mouth opens to retort something else, anything, but he stops me with a firm hand on the top of my head. The contact causes me to jump a little, but Captain Hirako just…keeps grinning. "Don't, kid. Your theory, your story—it's got weight. I ain't gonna' _ignore_ it, y'know? What y'did, fightin' off that Adjuchas, tryin' to save Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru. Even _tellin'_ me all that—it took guts. I'm still impressed, even if it wasn't what I thought."

"I…er…thank you, sir?"

"Thank yourself, Kozaki-kun," he says, again serious, and I have to wonder how many times this man can go from serious to lighthearted in a single conversation. "Usin' kaido on Tatsuyoru probably saved _your_ life."

What?

I voice the question, and Captain Hirako pulls something from his sleeve, the thing he'd been gripping earlier. It's a wakizashi, hilt wrapped in a generic red. The tsuba, however, is unique. Intricate, twisting and undulating unto itself in a way I've only ever seen a glimpse of up close once. My eyes go wide, and I feel like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. I don't know the blade's name or ability—it's not something I ever took the time to know—but I _do_ know it's owner. "This was found next to you. No trace of 'im anywhere, but y'said someone stabbed the Adjuchas through before it could eat ya'? It was probably him—caught it off guard."

With shaking hands, I reach for the wakizashi, a silent question that Captain Hirako grants after a moment of hesitation. Gently is the sheathed blade laid across my palms, and I bring it closer to inspect it, running fingers along the hilt, even snagging the end on the white sleeve of the medical yukata I'm wearing. "Careful. I need to return it to next of kin, safekeeping and all that. But I thought y'oughtta' know."

My laugh is watery. "Tatsuyoru-san has a next of kin?" It's a replacement question, and we both know it. What I really want to ask incredulously is if Tatsuyoru really is alive, but the blade in my hands has weight and answers it for me.

Captain Hirako nods, and his answer surprises me, "A wife, yes." I bow my head a little and hand the zanpakuto back. Poor woman. I didn't know he's married, but then again, he hates—hated?—me. Not much point in making nice with someone who would rather see your guts on the floor.

"You said safekeeping… W-where is…where is he? Did anyone else…?"

"Missin'," shrugs the captain. "Officially, your mission had eight casualties—seven K.I.A., one seriously injured. Only six were K.I.A., actually, one M.I.A, one injured. It's bein' kept hush-hush. When we found ya', both myself and Captain Hitsugaya thought somethin' seemed off, so it was agreed that everythin' be kept quiet 'til it's figured out. Only Tatsuyoru-kun's next of kin was gonna' be told, but it's under a nondisclosure, as a courtesy. I wasn't supposed to tell ya', but after hearin' your side of things, it only seemed right."

Shaking my head, I ask, "I saw him die, though—how is this…? He was torn apart right in front of me!"

The captain is grim as he stands. "Dunno. It's somethin' we need to look into. I'd advise y'rest up, Kozaki-kun. I ain't sure where this is goin', but this ain't the last time you're gonna' have to tell that story."

"I—"

His hand falls on my head again, silencing me quite effectively. I peer up at him, probably looking all the part of a lost little lamb and nothing like a confident Shinigami of Division 5. I'm hard-pressed to care. "Get some rest. That's an order."

Captain Hirako is out the door before he can hear my weak affirmative, and he's long gone as night slowly falls and the clock on the wall slowly ticks. I do not rest, but I suppose he doesn't need to know that.

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_ Well, there y'have it! Hirako Shinji! Like I said before, I hope I didn't butcher him, but I apologize if I did. I've been writing too much for Dragon Age lately, and the characters in Bleach are SIGNIFICANTLY different. It's a bit of a transition, but I'm trying!

R&R!  
~SurreptitiousFox


	3. The Word We Always Believe

_**Curtain Call  
By:**_ SurreptitiousFox245

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just a broke college student trying to entertain herself between the morbid classes on serial killers and deviant behavior. Bleach seems quaint after that. It's madness, I tell you. Madness.

 _ **Quick Author's Note**_ : Woot! Three chapters in a decent span of time! I'm so proud of myself! I'm also manic as fuck right now because the medication that I had to take for my bronchitis triggered an episode, so that helps! Being bipolar is AWESOME (it's not-it's really, really not).

In all seriousness, I'm proud to say that I've pretty much got everything planned out for Curtain Call, so that's an accomplishment. Also, the song I quote at the beginning of this chapter-go check it out! OLR is my favorite band, and they're seriously fucking fantastic. I don't quote them for no reason. Actually, I don't quote songs for no reason. If I do, then I typically wrote the chapter to the song, so it helps set the scene, if you will. Either way, just a heartfelt suggestion as I highly, HIGHLY reccommend them.

ENJOY!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3:**_ The Word We Always Believe

* * *

"'Love _' is for those who put their trust in it.  
'_Pain _' is for people who still have no worth.  
'_Hope _' is lost when there's no need to give in.  
'_Hate _' is the word we always believe._ "

-" _Four Letter Words_ ", One Less Reason

* * *

 **I'm released from the medical ward** three days later by an oddly irate doctor who grumbles halfhearted orders for me to take it easy for the next several weeks before all but shoving me out onto the street. I find out from Division 5's Fourth Seat that I'm also to be on medical leave for the next month before I'm even in the door to the barracks, so all in all I feel pretty ambushed, a bit pawn-like. It's a neat little trick to keep me out of the way while the powers that be figure out just what's going to be done with me, and I silently chafe at the practice. Squads have been wiped out before, sans one survivor. There's protocol for this, and I just want to get back to work so I can maybe forget this ever happened. But I have to keep reminding myself that the situation I'm in is unusual. Just because the uninformed masses don't know that somehow, by some godforsaken miracle, Tatsuyoru is actually _alive_ doesn't mean that he isn't and that he isn't missing. It doesn't change the fact that I might have relevant information stored somewhere in my brain that I may not _think_ is important. There's more going on than everyone can see, and so until everything including my place in the situation is figured out, they're keeping me close but out of the way.

I get it. I don't like it. But I get it. There's little I can do anyway, save smile and nod, so that's what I do.

The medical leave, however, I have to think is more a punishment than a blessing. Returning to the barracks I share with three other squads is too quiet and nerve-wracking an affair. The grave silence as I walk through the corridor made by the semi-private quarters is deceptive and filled with sidelong glances I can't tell if I'm meant to notice or not. The whispers that carry when they think I'm asleep or can't hear across the abysmal chasm where my squad's empty bunks lay speak volumes about the rumor mill that is circulating. I don't have much of a name for myself in the Division. I'm quiet, I do my job, and I keep to myself, for the most part. I learned that people don't listen to me, so I don't tend to try. While being ostensibly boring has its benefits, it also leaves plenty of room for gossipmongers to play with. The rumors run rampant, the kindest being of pity and the harshest claiming that I organized the whole thing as a power-play, but they die down after several days to barely murmurs. Captain Hirako says something to the worst of them that causes the silence, I think, but I'm trying to ignore everything going on around me so I'm not positive.

For the first week back, I don't sleep. When I finally do succumb to the exhaustion, I wake screaming from nightmares and am given a sedative by Division 4 to take at night to stop the dreams. The tea it makes tastes terrible and leaves me feeling oddly dizzy, but it does its intended job so my complaints are kept to myself. The doctor looked concerned when I asked for it. I fail to care—he gives it to me and doesn't deign to send me to the Seireitei version of a psychiatrist, and that is plenty good enough.

At the end of the first week I find out that the entire Gotei 13 is holding a memorial service for my fallen squad mates. I'm not _required_ to attend, technically, but the message informing me of it hints very strongly that I'm expected to as the sole survivor. I burn the piece of paper in anger, and as a result, Fūmittsu yanks me unceremoniously into my inner world to give me one of her disapproving looks that make my knees wobble. The way I've been acting—my zanpakuto does not agree, but I do not care. Part of my soul, an extension of myself, _whatever_. She doesn't understand. She _can't_ understand. She only talks to me out of necessity now, and as necessity is low, she remains a quiet, disappointed presence in the back of my mind. I ignore her.

That is the situation I am in as I stand in the crowd gathered for the memorial, sandwiched awkwardly between Lieutenant Hinamori and Captain Hirako. The latter _insists_ on keeping me close, much to my unending chagrin. I just want to run as I see the plaque affixed to an ornately carved stone. I see their names and want to be anywhere but here, in this place filed with reminders, reaffirmations, these things that make their deaths real and solidify the fact that they are gone. On some level, I think Captain Hirako realizes this and _that's_ why I'm kept where I cannot escape. Smart move, probably.

Lieutenant Hinamori spends the first ten minutes on the way to the ceremonial grounds trying to make small talk, but my clipped answers probably clue her in that I don't want to talk. My captain shoots her a look that I don't quite see, which might also have something to do with her silence for the remainder of the event. I don't care why, I'm just glad she stopped. I'm not in the mood for socialization.

Mockingly, the weather is its usual cloudless sun, with a late summer briskness on the wind and the warnings of fall touching the air. It's hard to notice the chill in the crowd, though, particularly as huddled with my captain and lieutenant as I am. I'm wearing my shihakusho despite protests for me to wear something else—it only feels right to wear my uniform in some sense. The officers are wearing their dress uniforms, which aren't really much different from the everyday shihakusho, so I fail to see the issue with it and ignore the glances like I've been doing for the past week.

Adjacent from where I'm standing, almost at the other end of the crowd, is a woman in traditional mourning wear that makes her almost blend in with the Shinigami present. Her head is bowed and hands hidden in the sleeves of her kimono, but I don't have to see them to know they are likely clenched. Next to her I recognize Hotaru and Takeshi's adoptive parents, allowed in from the depths of Rukongai to mourn their children. Their mother is openly crying, and their father has that too-stoic look on his face that I only remember seeing when Hotaru boldly proclaimed she was going to join _Shinōreijutsuin_ with me. A few more people are clustered off to that side, including a Division 3 officer who looks a lot like Gushiken Suzu, so I assume that's where the relatives are clustering.

The woman, though, next to Hotaru's parents. She's traditionally pretty to match her traditional clothing, dark hair and eyes, but I see a flickering fire in her, somewhere. I don't know what compels me to think this, but I believe that she's Tatsuyoru's wife. Or…well, officially his widow, I suppose. She's not crying. Why I expected her to be, I haven't the slightest clue. The wife of Tatsuyoru Kohaku would not cry for her husband. It's unfathomable, in retrospect. He never struck me as the type of person to marry a woman who couldn't handle herself, who wasn't strong in her own right—if not physically, then mentally.

I'm not expecting her to look up and make eye contact with me, but she does, and I'm shaken by the time she looks away. It didn't last long, but…the look in her eye. I know she's aware of Tatsuyoru being alive. Captain Hirako told me that next of kin was to be informed. It hits me then that the reason her look rattles me is because she is in the same boat as I am. She's attending her husband's funeral knowing full well he's still alive but unable to say or do anything about it. I'm attending my superior's funeral knowing full well he's alive, but also not having the slightest idea if that means he's a captive or he's a traitor. And I am also unable to say or do anything about it.

It's something I've been mulling over, between the nightmares, between the flashbacks and the haunts, between the whispers and the jeers. The things he said to me, just before we left that rooftop. He told me to be quiet. He told me to keep my theories to myself. He threatened to write me up. Nothing unusual for him, but he'd never physically grabbed me like that before, never gone beyond whatever verbal insults he wanted to hurl my way. His voice when he warned me the final time…

I don't know what to make of it, honestly. Was he threatening? Was he concerned? Did he know? Did he suspect? Nothing's clear. I'm suspicious of officers, suspicious in general, and I have every reason to believe that Tatsuyoru somehow had a hand in what happened. It's too dubious—make me _see_ him die, make me believe with every ounce of my being that he is nothing but bloody pieces and rags on the ground? Being dead is the perfect cover. Cover for what, though, I can't fathom.

But why warn me? Why tell me it was a trap? And, most of all, why save my life? I don't suspect anymore that it was him who killed the Adjuchas. Captain Hirako and Lieutenant Hinamori both told me that Tatsuyoru's zanpakuto was found next to my unconscious self, and I was found hours after I sent the request for help. Anyone from the relief team should have only found a mangled mess of me. I _know_ it was that zanpakuto that saved my life. Zanpakuto are picky—unless they trust another Shinigami implicitly, they will retaliate against any touch but their wielder's. At least, typically. There have been a handful of exceptions, but those are so few and far between…

It all boils down to me not wanting to think that my superior could have been a traitor and I could have missed it, honestly. I hate Tatsuyoru. Tatsuyoru hates me. There is no love lost if he dies. Just a sense of failure, as he is my squad mate and my commanding officer, and it is a part of my job to have his back. Failing to do so is a matter of wounded pride on my part.

And…and I don't want another Aizen to come from Division 5. We have had enough problems, we are hated enough as it is, still, thirty years later. Another traitor would ruin us, and it would ruin me. The Hollows acting strange…this wasn't the first time I'd seen it happen. I saw it, thirty years ago, before Aizen defected. I didn't know what it meant at the time—in fact, that was what got me to study their behavior, trying to recognize if there was a pattern. Something was off, I just couldn't tell _what_ it was. By the time I figured it out, figured out that the rhythms were wrong, that the taunts being issued by higher level Hollows _meant_ something, it was too late. We were short three captains, short a handful of Shinigami too blinded by loyalty from each division defecting soon after, and our reputations? Forget it. Gone. Torn to pieces, spit on, laughed at. _Everyone_ in Divisions 3, 5, and 9 had to build our respective units again from the ground up, regain the respect and positive recognition we should have had all along. Even today, we don't have all of it back. We still get wary glances and upturned noses when they think we're not looking.

As with everything else, I understood— _understand_ —why people do it. Why we were reviled for so long, are still reviled. Sleepers. Moles. Lone wolves. There is danger in those left behind, but the wholesale persecution we faced afterwards was uncalled for and largely unacknowledged. People either hated us openly or turned a blind eye to the witch hunts that followed in the chaos. Friend turning on friend…I can't watch that again. I won't.

I _missed_ a backstab once, was _blind_ to it once. To know I was a second time, to recognize and accept that _my_ mistake got more people killed tears at my soul, and that is just the possibility. The real thing will break me, I've no doubt.

Yanking myself out of my thoughts, I notice that aside from relatives lingering in the front down the line, there doesn't seem to be any real order to how people are standing. Captain-Commander Kyōraku is the exception as he is positioned towards the front and center facing the crowd, flowery kimono unmistakable and improperly flashy for a funeral. He is halfway through some commemoration speech I wasn't listening to. It's standard, from what I gather, but heartfelt. I suppose if I were to genuinely like any of the captains, it would be Captain Kyōraku. He's real in a way I don't tend to see on the other officers, and I'd seriously considered joining Division 8 for a time after graduating from _Shinō_ fifty years ago.

I wait for Fūmittsu's belittlement, her claims that the other officers _are_ genuine, it is just my paranoia getting the best of me that I don't recognize it. She stays mute and refrains for once from trying to play therapist with me, and I thank the kami for small blessings. Where I'm not in the mood for socializing today, I'm also not in the mood to get into another spat with my zanpakuto.

When the speeches are done and people left to mingle, I try to make my escape. Captain Hirako apparently anticipates this. I suddenly find his arm slung astride my shoulders in a friendly manner. I refrain from tearing it away, immediately put off by my reaction. I'm not a violent person, but this day has brought it out in me.

"C'mon, Kozaki-kun. Ya' can't leave quite yet!"

Through clenched teeth, I hiss, "And why not?" People are staring now, and the handful of captains left look an interesting mix of amused and apologetic. Trying to shake his arm off goes nowhere. I glance around for Lieutenant Hinamori (if anyone can reprimand the captain, I'd trust it to be her), but I find her engrossed in conversation with someone I believe to be Lieutenant Matsumoto, as well as Captain Hitsugaya, across the way. I deadpan a little, internally cursing my luck.

Captain Hirako just grins as per usual. "Ain't the point of a memorial to remember the dead?" I give him a funny look. The rational side of me is still baffled that I'm having this much casual interaction with a captain, but the grief-stricken part of me...just wants to go take a nap, honestly.

"We just did remember the dead," I drone. "Collectively. In a group. I was under the impression that morning is a personal thing."

"The service was so _impersonal_ , though!"

When he opens his mouth to continue protesting or whining or whatever thing it is, I cut him off gently. I know what he's doing, and while I appreciate it on some level, it's detached and buried under the numbness of the day. It hits me in this moment that Hirako Shinji is actually a good captain who cares for his subordinates and doesn't want a clearly shaken one to be by herself on a difficult day, but I just…I can't. I can't deal with that realization yet, and I can't deal with _all of this_. "Captain, please. I just want to go home."

I don't know where home is, exactly. Not the barracks. Not the little shack in Rukongai I gladly walked from after a lifetime. All I know is that it's _away_ from the ceremonial grounds. _Away_ from the bleak memorial stone that now has my comrades' names etched permanently onto its surface. Away from the still wailing mother of my closest friend, mourning a loss I haven't really come to terms with yet. I just want _away_.

Still, Captain Hirako closes his mouth and gives me a sympathetic smile. Not a toothy, goofy grin like he usually sports, but a genuine thing that causes his entire face to soften from the effort of appearing too happy all the time. He sets his hand on my head, something I think he's grown too fond of doing, and I feel momentarily like a child because of it. It doesn't help that I barely reach his shoulder. "Well in that case, all ya' had to do is say somethin'! Go on, kid. Get outta' here."

"I...thank you." I try to smile, but I think it's shaky and watery and more of a grimace. He just waves back towards Seireitei proper and Division 5 with a too-casual flop of his hand.

"Don't mention it," he says cheerfully, then frowns a little. "No, seriously, don't mention it. Go. Get."

It… musters a bit of a grin out of me, at least, though it doesn't last long. I give a short bow of farewell and begin the trek back to the painfully white city with its corridor-like streets and cookie-cutter buildings. Still, for all its aesthetic monotony, I much prefer Seireitei to Rukongai, and I think a lot of the Rukon brats in the Shinigami ranks would be inclined to agree with me. It's not _all_ bad there, of course, but…well, it's bad enough for a lot of people.

As I reach the edge of the grounds and prepare to _shunpo_ the rest of the way back, I catch sight of a woman in black. Not unusual, but the kimono setting her apart from the two other Shinigami she's talking to makes me instantly recognize her as Tatsuyoru's widow. I debate walking over, giving her my condolences, but I find I can't. So I'm left to stare at her awkwardly for a few moments, wanting to give comfort as is expected of anyone in my situation. However, knowing what I know, how can I with a clear conscience? We both know the man is alive—condolences for his death would be premature and just feel wrong.

I'm spared the decision, though, when she looks up and locks eyes with me for a second time. I give the woman credit. She's still maintaining a flowing conversation with the two Shinigami she's speaking with, but she also keeps eye contact with me like nothing's amiss. I think she knows I know. Or, maybe it's just my paranoia talking. It's probably the paranoia, and she probably just knows who I am. Fūmittsu keeps oddly quiet on this, but I figure it's likely for the best. Her input would only make things worse right now.

His widow's eyes are dark in color and mood. The spark I noticed earlier is more visible in them, though, and it shines like some sort of beacon. It's fitting, almost, that the man with soulless eyes married a woman with eyes that are depthless oceans of emotion, her heart bare for all to see regardless of how she schools her face to indifference. I admire that in her somehow and childishly lament how none of this seemed to wear on her husband. It would have made working with him so much easier if I could have just known what he was thinking.

We don't look at each other long. I doubt it's more than ten seconds, maybe fifteen, but the moment is stretched with profoundness before one of us looks away—I can't remember who—and then time continues on as normal. I'm back to the barracks before I realize that the look, the moment, it was filled with shared understanding, and I know then that I'm not going to sleep tonight.

* * *

 **Five days after the memorial service,** and I have no idea what compels me to do it, but I find myself donning one of the only non-uniform pieces of clothing I own—a simple grey yukata sporting a few white chrysanthemums along the hemline—and walking down the streets of Rukongai. It's another typical sunny day in Soul Society, and I know I don't blend in well enough even with street clothes. Too many people are eyeing my zanpakuto warily. I'm only thankful that no one is trying to outright attack me—had I been in any other district than Junrinan, there would have been a brawl already.

I scan houses as I walk and wind my way through streets and alleys, looking for a particular address that I memorized yesterday. I'm not saying that I sneaked into the captain's office and peeked at some paperwork…but I sneaked into the captain's office and peeked at some paperwork. I just _can't_ get Tatsuyoru's wife's eyes out of my head… Knowing that she knows he's alive, that if it were to get out, what people would think. He'd be considered a traitor. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I on some level think this as it is. She looks like a strong lady who can handle herself, who can carry on from this, but she also looks so _hurt_. In my rush to get back to the barracks and just _away_ from the grounds after the memorial service, I didn't give her my condolences. I could argue that it was for her benefit, and I didn't want to confront the woman with my person as a memory of everything that she's lost, that she's poised to lose. But that's a lie, and I know it. I didn't speak with her then for _me_ , because _I_ couldn't handle the reminder. _Shared understanding_ we may have, but it can sometimes hurt more than it helps.

For her, I can't speak, but I know for me that it digs and claws and is unrelenting. So I said nothing and kept walking.

But the guilt in doing so is pressing, and I feel such an overwhelming urge to speak with her, that I set out anyway. She and Tatsuyoru have lodging in Seireitei, but I discovered from my snooping that the woman, Haruka, was originally from the first district of Rukongai and kept family housing there. Captain Hirako had made a notation on the file that she was residing in Junrinan since her husband's "death" to update her current address for any notifications. Her house is probably being watched—I'm not ignorant of how the Stealth Force operates—but I don't care. This compulsion is too much. Besides, I'm ostensibly visiting a grieving widow to offer my sympathies. That isn't illegal, last I checked. Yet there's a level of guilt in my snooping I can't deny, some juvenile thrill of doing something I'm not supposed to that rattles my bones even though it's nothing of the sort. I feel like laughing at myself.

I'm unprepared when I finally come to the door. It's a simple little place, nicer than the rickety old mess I… " _grew up_ " in by far, but more subdued than most of the homes in the district where money is oft flaunted. Again, I'm not sure what I expect. What I get certainly isn't it. Different kinds of flowers line the tiny walkway in a pleasant, welcoming manner that the atmosphere around the house mimics, the noticeable wood of the exterior varnished a pretty chestnut. Knowing the situation of the woman residing there makes it heavier than it ought to be, though, and I swallow the nervous lump forming in my throat.

Forcing myself to knock before I can change my mind is the difficult part, and the crisp raps on wood that I shakily manage to give make me cringe because I realize I've delivered too many notices of death in the past kami-only-know-how-many-years. When a _knock_ can't sound casual... I shudder. That's the moment one realizes one is a workaholic.

Several moments of silence pass, only broken by singing birds and the shrieking of children playing on the main street a little ways away. I'm glaring down at my feet, shifting uncomfortably. It's taking too long. She's probably not home, and I'm just making a bigger fool out of myself than I already am by being here. Fidgeting, I pick at Fūmittsu's frayed grey _ito_ , unraveling the bits of already worn cloth in my nervousness. I can't sense the reiatsu of the Stealth Force members sent to watch the house, but I know they're there, somewhere, probably looking at me now and wondering what in the blazes I'm doing here. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have—

"Hello?"

My indecision caused me to miss the door being crept open to a small sliver through which a round face now stares back at me. I jump a little, but try to cover it as best I can because I recognize those dark eyes looking at me with a question. It's a question I try to answer, but I flounder more like a fish out of water instead.

"Y-yes, I…" stuttering, my arms cross subconsciously. I feel oddly threatened by this woman in a way I can't fathom. Like she's staring into my soul and knows everything there is to know that hides there. "T-Tatsuyoru-san?" I cringe. It's awkward referring to this woman as "Tatsuyoru-san". _Tatsuyoru-san_ is my superior, not this soul-piercing woman hiding behind the door. Her eyes unnerve me just as much as her husband's for completely opposite reasons.

Her curiosity in any event seems piqued, and the door creeps open a few more centimeters on hinges that are silent as the grave. The quiet of the strange, western-style door seems eerily appropriate, almost a metaphor. "Yes? Can I help you?" Tatsuyoru Haruka's voice is velvet and soft, gentlehearted and laden in honey. But I don't doubt it can go painfully sharp. I don't doubt for a moment that it can _burn_.

I squeak, "I'm s-sorry for bothering you. I was at the memorial service, and wa-wanted to offer my condolences…I…" The silence dregs on, but I don't think I've shocked her. She looks expectant, but not surprised, and I realize this is probably not the first time this week some well-wisher has bothered her at her home offering sympathy in varying ranges of fake and real.

"I…see," she says after a minute. The smile that twitches onto her face is anything but genuine, but it's… _understanding_ , I suppose. Sad. Soft. "Is that all?"

Blinking and biting the inside of my cheek, I look down again. There's no point in lingering. I got what I came for. "I, uh…yes. That was it. I apologize for any disturbance." Shakily delivering a stiff, deep bow, I hesitate for only a split second before turning to make my way down the walk and back to the road. Back to Seireitei. Back to the Division barracks that are filled with six empty spaces and suspicious looks and painful whispers.

But she stops me, starting quietly at something and then softly, ever-so-softly murmuring a question. "Wait a moment, please. You're Kozaki Yoshiko, aren't you?" I turn around again swiftly at the utterance of my name, not having expected it, only to find that she'd fully opened the door and taken a half step out into the glaring sunlight bathing the houses of Junrinan.

Her hair is out of the chignon she had it in at the memorial, and it falls down her back in ringlets of black. I couldn't notice it behind the door and as engulfed in shadows as she was, but she is out of her _mofuku_ and in a solid midnight blue yukata devoid of crests and simply belted for private wear. And it hits me like a punch to the throat that without the layers and rigidity offered by a regular _obi,_ it is unmistakable that she is pregnant.

I have to swallow a few times because my mouth has suddenly gone unexplainably dry. Of all the things I expected… Pregnancies aren't unheard of in Soul Society, but adoption of one of the wandering souls is far more common and far more accepted. But the lady asked me a question, and I am taking far too long to answer it. "I am."

She smiles, which I don't expect. "Yes, I thought I recognized you. Kohaku, he spoke of you, all of you, often. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. But I'm being a horrible host! Would you please come in and have some tea before you go back?"

Have…some…tea? Tea? I blink owlishly at her. I expect her to know who I am, on some level. The Shinigami who made it back to Soul Society in one piece, rather than her husband who is missing. That in and of itself is plenty reason for her to begrudge me, reject my very existence, to tell me to get off her property and never set foot here again. An invite to tea is _definitely_ not something I considered.

"Of course, thank you," I respond numbly, still in shock, both from the offer of _tea_ and the realization that Tatsuyoru Haruka is with child and _not_ wishing death upon me. She just grins and ushers me inside without more preamble. I cross the threshold, and something in the mundane action makes me shiver, in the potential for symbolism of it all as I follow her into that quaint little house and towards a level of unknowns.

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_ Sorry, that was a LOT of monologue, but I felt like it needed to be said. Yoshiko is going through some shit right now, and a lot of that for her I'm imagining manifests in a crapton of introspection. There'll be a lot more conversation next chapter, as well as a bit with Hitsugaya, finally, so you can look forward to that.

I got a couple of translations/descriptions to do.

 _Ito:_ The cloth, braid-like wrapping on the hilt of a katana or other Japanese sword. Not to be confused with the surname of my OC Ito Akane. I didn't realize when I named her, but it's kind of a funny coincidence, I think.

 _Mofuku_ : Traditional mourning wear. It's basically just a black on black kimono with five white kamon crests.

 _Obi_ : If y'all are reading a Bleach fanfic and don't know what an obi is, I'm gonna jump through the screen and slap you. It's the belt or sash used to secure a kimono.

Also, THANK YOU to all of you who have reviewed, faved, and followed. Even if you've just popped by to read, then THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES OVER. It means a lot to me that people are reading, and even more that they're enjoying. Makes me happy :)

R&R!  
~SurreptitiousFox


	4. The Hardest Part Is to Say We Lie

_**Curtain Call  
By:**_ SurreptitiousFox245

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just borrowing.

 **Quick Author's Note:** Ahh, midterms. Gotta love (hate) them.

I'm on spring break now, so I was able to finish this chapter up and get it out for you! Enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4:**_ The Hardest Part Is to Say We Lie

* * *

" _So hard to talk about it and harder to live without it.  
_ _I hear moving on is all the rage, but I'd rather see your face.  
_ _I know it's hard to see, but I knew you would make it.  
_ _I know you don't believe, but I was there by your side.  
_ _When I heard your heart break and knew it was all you could take.  
_ _And you never waved goodbye._ "

-Jassepy Moses And The Vagytarians, " _All The Rage_ "

* * *

 **I suppose I really shouldn't be** surprised at the western layout of Haruka's house considering the tastefully blended façade, but I am as she leads me through the entry and into a sitting room. This is done in silence that hangs awkwardly, me not knowing how to break it and her trying to collect her words. I'm shaking, wanting nothing more than to turn around the way I came and never look back, wanting to curl into my yukata and never emerge, let the fabric swallow me whole, but I somehow manage to keep my chin up and face placid and not flinch as I follow my impromptu hostess. There's a fleeting thought that the Stealth Force must be having a field day with this little turn of events. I'm chagrinned at that because I'm certainly not.

Despite the external décor and general layout of the house, she seats me at a quaint _chabudai_ and quickly fetches a tray laden with a teapot and cups. I assume she must have just prepared some for herself before my interruption. I'm expecting green tea, but my hopes are dashed when it ends up being a European black tea that I cannot recall the name of for the life of me. The scent is vaguely reminiscent of vanilla, sweet. It bugs me as I cradle my cup in my hands to try and cease the shaking. It doesn't work, and I watch the ripples my trembling fingers make in the steaming liquid with fabricated fascination so I don't have to look at the pregnant woman sitting across from me.

She is watching, too, apparently. "Goodness, you have no reason to be so nervous, Kozaki-san." I finally blink up to look at her face, plastered with that soft, serene smile she had when she greeted me at the door. Soft, serene, and _fake_. I don't comment on it.

" _Gomen nasai_ ," I murmur instead, grip tightening until my knuckles are white with the strain. It hurts to look at her, a physical ache of guilt that I can't escape from. It doesn't help that every gods forsaken glance she gives me takes any expectation, any prediction about this woman that I've formed and shatters it mercilessly with that damned smile. I don't know what to make of her. I can't read her. It's like Tatsuyoru all over again, but on a different end of the spectrum. And as someone who can reasonably read everyone I meet, it's unnerving on a level I can't even put to words.

Haruka sips her tea calmly and replies, "You have nothing to apologize for. In fact, it is quite the opposite." My brow furrows, and my mouth opens to protest. However, she quiets me before I can say anything with a gentle gesture.

"No, I heard what you did for Kohaku. Hirako-taicho informed me of how you attempted to heal what damage you could on my husband. It is because of you that he is missing instead of dead," explains the woman, placid as can be. "I cannot thank you enough for that. I am sorry for the ridicule you must be facing, however. As far as the general public is concerned, you are the only survivor of a massacre, a tragedy. I cannot begin to imagine the repercussions of such a thing, the gossip, on top of losing your comrades. As it is, I have heard that the rumors have been less than kind to you already."

I'm dumbfounded, mostly at her words but a little at the eloquence with which she speaks. It's like every syllable out of her mouth is liquid silk. "T-thank you, but…how…how do you know that I…?"

"Your captain informed me that you were aware of Kohaku's status. I was skeptical, I will not lie—but now I believe that it was the correct decision. He was right to speak so highly of you." The last part is distant, as if she is remembering something, and her eyes close for the barest fraction of a moment.

"Captain Hirako spoke highly of me?" I question. Haruka's ever-present smile turns wry.

"Ah, yes, but I was not referring to him." She chuckles a bit, a dainty sound that reminds me annoyingly of windchimes. How can one person so… _fragile_ be so damn _intimidating_? "Hirako-taicho _did_ have good things to say about you, but Kohaku frequently would tell me about your team. He always said he saw such _promise_ in you. I never understood why, but I do now. You likely saved his life."

My brain short-circuits. I _literally_ can't connect the words she just said to me. They do not have any viable meaning as far as I'm concerned. Tatsuyoru Kohaku speaking highly of me? It's ridiculous, laughable. I remember his hand on the front of my kosode, lifting me up, sneering at me, the denials, the taunts that bordered on abusive, and I can't fathom it. I look at this woman, _really_ look at her, but I see nothing amiss. She is a grieving wife reminiscing about her lost husband, who she cared for dearly and was dearly cared for by. I see no evidence of anything else, and that sense of _wrong_ begins to creep over me again.

Squeaking, I shake my head almost violently. "Y-you must be mistaken! I'm sorry, Tatsuyoru-san, but your husband…he _hated_ me. If he were to have spoken highly of anything about me, it would be my apparent innate ability to anger him by doing nothing."

I'm not bitter. No, not at all.

"Ah, yes, I am aware. And I am afraid that is another thing I must apologize for, on my husband's behalf," she says, and I can almost _hear_ a tinge of sarcasm in her voice, exasperation, like she wants to roll her eyes but is too proper to do so. "He would be cross to know I have told you, but I did not agree with his… _methods_ in the first place when I was informed."

"Methods?"

"Kohaku was not cruel to you because he dislikes you, Kozaki-san," she says, my disbelief increasing with every word. "He did it to push you."

I scoff. "Push me to get myself into trouble, you mean."

Haruka shakes her head, but it is amused as opposed to condescending. "You do not understand. You are correct in saying you are able to anger him by doing nothing, but it is your very inaction that frustrates him, not you yourself. Kohaku _saw something in you_. He saw potential for you to do great things, and all he was doing was trying to push that potential to the surface."

"When did helping me to succeed become holding me back from advancement and being cruel to me?" Nah, not bitter whatsoever. Not at all, not in the least.

"His methods were perhaps flawed, yes. But he was not really trying to help you succeed the way you are thinking. He was trying to make you learn to stand up for yourself." Her admittance has me flabbergasted for not the first time today. So stunned am I, in fact, that my steadying grip on my teacup goes slack and my hands stop shaking.

"Wha-what? I stand up for myself!" My voice betrays me by wavering and quieting to a murmur. I wince.

Haruka hums, but it is not mocking. It is fittingly motherly. "Not according to Kohaku. I did not agree with him. I am of the mindset that a mentorship would have worked better instead of alienating you, however if my husband is nothing else, he is stubborn."

"It's...no, I don't...I-I..."

"Believe me?" she asks rhetorically. "You do not have to, Kozaki-san. I believe that if you look, you will see I am correct. What was the one thing about which he was harshest with you?"

"My theory on Hollow behavior," I don't even have to think about the answer. "But everyone does that! I know I'm right, but..."

She finishes for me, "No one believes you? No one listens?"

I falter and look away. "No. No one listens." Haruka surprises me then by reaching across the _chabudai_ and ever-so-gently resting the tips of her fingers on my wrist.

"Perhaps," she tries, "they do not listen because they cannot hear you, cannot hear your conviction. You speak, but do not give them reason to pay you attention. You expect to be dismissed, so you do not fight when it happens."

I find myself unable to retort, at a loss for words, tossing her claims around in my head. I'm oddly numb from both the entirety of the past few weeks and the way the situation this afternoon has been smashed on its head, mentally exhausted and without the energy to formulate a response. I think Haruka understands this, as she quirks one corner of her mouth into a sympathetic grin, pats my arm warmly, and settles back into her seat to continue sipping her tea.

"You think all of that? From a few stories?" I ask this halfheartedly, just a thing to fill silence. Haruka laughs softly.

"Those are his words. Not mine." My hostess shakes her head, tossing curls of midnight this way and that gently. "Kohaku saw more than he let on. He is more than he showed. I believe the term ' _keeping one's cards close to the vest_ ' was almost made for him."

I bark a laugh that's less a laugh and more a strangled yelp. "So you're saying he believed me the whole time?"

"Yes, he did. I am sorry. I understand that this must be difficult."

"No," I say, but my mind is screaming that _difficult_ does not begin to do it justice. "It's just a shock. I never suspected..."

She hums in the back of her throat, eyes gaining an affectionate sparkle. "If Kohaku did not want you to know, you were not going to. But please, I beg you do not judge him too harshly. He truly had your best interests at heart. All of you. I can only imagine what was going through his mind when...when..." She breaks off, and it's like a switch is flipped. I emerge from my self pity and reflection and bitterness and actually take notice of just how broken this woman really is. Her eyes are lightly bloodshot, like she'd been crying for days and just run out of tears. They are sunken as well from lack of sleep that with her pregnancy I doubt is healthy. I count blessings that it seems she is conscientious enough to remember to eat regularly. Her reiatsu is not trained, but it is strong on its own. Combined with the child, and I find myself concerned over the consequences should she fall to that state of grief. She looks like she is barely holding together as it is. There, but only just.

I flounder slightly before I find the words I think I want. "It's alright. Forgive me, Tatsuyoru-san. I wasn't thinking of how hard this must be for _you_ , that is inconsiderate of me."

Her smile turns watery and frail, and she shakes her head. "This impacts you as well. Do not be sorry for feeling."

"How far along are you?" I ask quietly, nodding to her and hoping she goes along with the change in subject. She thankfully does.

"Five months. Captain Kotetsu says it is progressing well, at least."

My brows shoot up to my hairline. "The captain is dealing with you directly?" I'm subtly asking an incredulous " _who are you?_ " Kotetsu, both captain and lieutenant, only gets handed the most severe or high profile patients. If she is otherwise healthy...

Haruka laughs, "Yes. My maiden name is Sasakibe. The late previous lieutenant of Division One was my great uncle. The relation affords me some level of privilege."

Huh. That neatly explains it then. And the décor, I note, vaguely remembering Lieutenant Sasakibe's obsession with anything western.

We talk for a time after, about various things, and I am grateful that the air is not tense. Our tea is long cold; we are caught up in the idle chit chat that I think is almost therapeutic for the both of us. Tatsuyoru is steadfastly avoided with the exception of a few brief mentions when speaking of the child, as is anything too weighty. A bit of the tension coiled around my shoulders lessens, and I breathe properly for the first time in what feels like decades. Humming echoes in my mind, a peep from my zanpakuto. The first since before the funeral. It is frustrated, I think, but it is something so I don't question or pester.

By the time we dwindle our conversation, the sun is beginning to set. As if it triggers something, Haruka stops mid-sentence, excuses herself, and darts into another room as quickly as her expanding midsection will allow. She is back before I can really process my shock, something bundled and foreign and a bright green in her hand that she shoves into mine.

"I almost forgot! Kohaku, before he left...well, for the past few months, he had been tense, as if he was waiting for something to happen." The dark atmosphere from before returns at his name. "Around then, he gave me specific instructions to give this to his squad should anything happen to him."

I don't focus on the object, but send her an incredulous look. "He _is_ alive."

"I know," she defends quickly. "I know he is. However, I constitute _missing_ as _something_. You are the only remaining squad member, Kozaki-san, so I do believe this now belongs to you."

"What...is it?"

Laughing, she unravels the cord from the object before handing it back to me. "It is a music player Kohaku got from the World of the Living a decade or so ago. I...will confess, I am unsure why he would wish that in your care. It is a trinket, really. Unimportant, I thought."

I give her a sharp look. Now that I'm told, I can recognize the plastic block for what it is, and I do have a vague understanding of how the things work. Audio can be put on the devices. She has an unspoken point. Her husband wouldn't bequeath a trivial thing to his squad should something happen to him. Not unless it really did mean something.

She has to know this, I think. There's no way she doesn't. Not unless that part of him was an act, too.

Fuck, I don't know anymore.

"I don't know what to say."

"You do not have to," soothes my hostess. "Just...please, take it. It would put my mind at ease, and Kohaku's. Lying, acting, pretending—he hated it. It tore at his soul. I think he would like you to know some of who he really is. Just in case...in case he does not come back."

I curl my fingers around the little device and the attachments I recognize as headphones. "Are you sure?" There are a lot of unspoken questions behind what I ask. Is she sure that she wants to give this memory of her husband to me, when he may not come back? Is she sure that not saving this for her child is a good idea? Too many questions I can't voice.

Despite all this, Haruka just nods. "Yes. He was adamant, and I have my memories. It is enough, and I know that your own recollections are not so pleasant. And you yourself—he did not hate you. He had a respect for you. If this makes you see that, then all the better."

Re-wrapping the headphones again around the little plastic rectangle the bright color of an apple, I am somehow humbled and a little disbelieving, muttering a quiet, "Thank you." My hostess bows her head in acknowledgement, but we are otherwise plunged into a silence that is neither awkward nor comfortable. It just _is_ , and it dregs on in a limbo of racing and sluggish. I can't find anything to say, and I think Haruka has said all her words.

It may have been seconds, it may have been hours, but we are eventually saved from the not-awkward awkward silence by a small flair of vaguely familiar reiatsu followed by a crisp knock on the door. I'm jarred out of whatever daze I fell into, myself and Haruka looking at one another in mild shock. A few seconds has us chuckling at the ridiculous surrealism of it all, and I am on my feet to help her stand. She thanks me, and I follow her out to the door with the intent to leave. I note the setting sun and decide I have dawdled enough.

She tugs the heavy slab open, and I blink over Haruka's shoulder at the shihakusho and shock of white hair. I'm momentarily stunned, trying to flounder some reason in my mind for Captain Hitsugaya to be in uniform in Rukongai, and unfortunately for me, the only reason I can figure is because of me. This realization causes me to shuffle my feet and find the floorboards suddenly quite interesting.

"Hitsugaya-san!" Haruka exclaims, though it's…happily? I blink at the floor, expression falling into one of further confoundedness. It was familiar. They know each other? She _is_ a relative of Lieutenant Sasakibe, but to be relatively familiar with a captain? He was at the memorial, but I figured that was because it was an unofficial requirement as a captain. I hadn't even considered the possibility that he could have known the Fifth Seat and his family.

"Tatsuyoru-san," I hear the captain of Division 10 respond in kind. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."

She waves him off. "It is no trouble! How is your grandmother doing? I am afraid I have not had the time to check in with her as of late."

 _Grandmother_? Wait…my eyes narrow. I…think I heard something back a couple decades ago about Captain Hitsugaya being from Rukongai. Is he from Junrinan? That'd be one hell of a coincidence.

"She's fine. She actually asked me to check up on you on my way back to the barracks."

Haruka chuckles. "Oh, you did not have to do that. I appreciate it. I am doing well—I will have to go and see her sometime soon, then." She glances quickly between the captain and myself. "Oh! Forgive my rudeness! Hitsugaya-san, this is—"

"Kozaki Yoshiko," he interrupts, but it isn't unkind or rude. I take this moment to look up from the floor. Something about his eyes is familiar, but I can't place it. "Yes, I know. It's good to see you up and about. You weren't in good shape when we found you."

My brows shoot up a little. "You were part of the rescue team?" I wince a little internally at the lack of respect, but if Captain Hitsugaya notices, he doesn't comment, and for that I am grateful.

"Myself and Lieutenant Matsumoto, yes. Your captain and lieutenant asked if we would accompany them to investigate the area. You spoke with us, albeit very briefly. I'm not surprised you don't remember." he clarifies, and I remember that the captain and my lieutenant are childhood friends. It's common knowledge—how I forgot, I'll never know. "You have my condolences."

"Thank you, Captain," I bow a little, trying to remember my manners, but I'm exhausted and just want to go take a nap. It's been a long day, I think, and the little music player pressed protectively in my palm is almost burning a hole through the skin.

Haruka hums, and I do a double-take at the woman because there is a mischievous spark in her eyes that I don't like. "Kozaki-san was just leaving."

I am forced to nod along. "Aa. I-I was here far later than I planned, anyway. _Arigato gozaimasu_ , Tatsuyoru-san." She smiles brightly.

" _Doitashimashite_. I welcomed the company." Suddenly, the woman's face contorts into one of concern. I'm taken aback a little as the worry turns to consideration as she peers out a window at the quickly-diminishing daylight. She's _too_ concerned, and studying her body language tells me she's overexaggerating because she's faking. Why she's faking concern… "Oh, I cannot believe I did not realize earlier, but you are still not fully recovered from…from before, are you?"

Giving her a weird look, I reply, "Mostly…" It's not a lie, but as the sharp pain that runs through my abdomen reminds me a split second later, it's not entirely true, either.

"Nonsense!" she exclaims, and I feel my heart sink into my stomach. "I am not letting you walk back like this! If I would have known you were walking _here_! Hitsugaya-san, since you are heading that way, would you mind walking Kozaki-san back to her barracks? Just for my own peace of mind?" Sputtering a rebuttal, I stare at the woman, wondering if she somehow knew about my mistrust of captains and her kindness earlier was all just an act leading up to this moment. It's ridiculous, but still. She _can't_ be serious?

"No!" I squeak. "No, that's okay, I-I'm fine! I couldn't intrude—!"

To my further chagrin, Captain Hitsugaya just stoically raises a brow before calmly nodding. "I probably should, anyway. Hinamori would give me an earful if she were to find out I didn't." There's a level of amused fondness to the last bit, but I can't help but shudder a little because he's _right_. I don't know my lieutenant well for obvious reasons, but she's protective of her subordinates in a way that not a lot of other officers are. Consequence of Aizen's betrayal, I assume, but she has always been a mindful lieutenant. With how I've been on everyone's radar lately, I wouldn't question Lieutenant Hinamori's ability to find out I walked to and back from Rukongai by myself while still recovering. And I'm also not keen to be on the receiving end of her wrath. I've heard she can be quite terrifying when need be.

Resisting the almost overwhelming urge to puff my cheeks out in irritation, I sigh and meekly avoid eye contact. "I…you have a point, Captain. Thank you." This is going to be awkward. This is going to be _so_ awkward.

* * *

 **I'm right—this is** _ **ridiculously**_ **awkward.**

Junrinan isn't far from Seireitei, being in the first district, but it feels like it might as well be the seventieth with how long this walk seem to be taking. No one has said a word after exchanging polite farewells to Haruka. I don't have it in me to try to make small talk—I'm too tense and intimidated and suspicious, and Captain Hitsugaya is just…unaffected and calm, which only feeds my trepidation. A part of me curses my paranoia for how awkward it tends to make everything, but some corner of my mind whispers that the same paranoia has saved my life in the past. So it's not like it isn't warranted.

In this situation, though, I have to wonder.

The district has a sort of winding quality to its back streets, but once one hits a main road, it's like walking on an arrow. I can see the white spires of Seireitei without having to try, but a combination of fear and anxiety seems to lock them in place. No matter how much we walk, no matter how much time agonizingly passes, it's like those buildings can't get close enough. It's like the sky refuses to darken past dusk. Even the _wind_ is eerily quiet. The streets are emptying quickly as night approaches, too, which contributes to the silence. This time, it is decidedly awkward. There's no half-way about it.

But it's broken, however, quicker than I was expecting. "You picked an odd day."

"I-I'm sorry?" Yelping, I jump a bit because I wasn't ready for the question that came out of nowhere. Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I'd always been made to believe that Captain Hitsugaya wasn't much of a conversationalist.

Yes, I _occasionally_ listened to gossip. It's a perk to being unnoticeable most of the time. Sue me.

"You picked an odd day," he reiterates. "Not a lot of the rank and file have Thursdays off." I blink at this because I can't tell if he's tactfully ignoring my medical leave or he really doesn't know. Understanding his friendship with Hinamori, and I'd almost expect her to have mentioned that the mentally scarred sole survivor is on mandatory medical leave until they figure out what to do with me.

"Wh-what makes you t-think I have today off?" My boldness and the stupid question surprises even myself, and it's all I can do to keep from slapping my hands over my mouth in mortification. As with before, if he notices my bout of rudeness, he deigns not to comment.

Instead, the captain nods back the way we came. "You said you stayed longer than you intended. I assumed that meant you had been there a while." He leaves his point unspoken, whether to test me or because he thinks it's obvious, but I pick up on it nonetheless. If I had been working today, I wouldn't have had a lot of time between when I would have gotten off duty (late) and when we left Haruka's (also late).

The laugh I give is awkward and meek. "R-right. I'm…they put me on medical leave. Mandatory, for the next…three or so weeks."

"That seems a little extensive."

Shrugging, I say, "I don't know. If they want me on medical leave for that long, who am I to argue?" He looks almost like there's something he wants to say, something in his posture that screams he's not finished with the topic, but he also holds back and doesn't reply. On some level, I appreciate it. I know he's got questions. Who wouldn't? I survived a veritable massacre. The definition of failed mission, of scarred soldier. He _is_ a captain, and while I wasn't part of anything major, I _was_ there for the Winter War and the Quincy. There's no doubt that Captain Hitsugaya has been through far worse than what I have, but I don't think anyone could hear about my mission and not have questions. Not even a captain. _Especially_ a captain—he's probably heard the details by now. He was there for the rescue. I'm sure the biggest question tumbling around in anyone's head right now would be a resounding "What happened?" And I'm chagrinned to know both that it is also in mine and that I can't answer it, either.

Blissfully, Seireitei seems to cease its disability to obey the rules of closing distances and begins to actually appear as if it is getting closer. We are about halfway to the walls when, and I don't know for the life of my _why_ , my mouth suddenly blurts out, "Thank you."

The snowy-haired captain looks at me questioningly, turquoise eyes reminding me of Tatsuyoru's in intensity, just not as harsh. "It isn't an issue. I've already mentioned that your lieutenant wouldn't be happy with me if I didn't walk you back." I think I hear him mutter something as an aside about _his_ lieutenant not being happy with him, either, but it's not important in lieu of my lingering paranoia and questions about my own sanity for not leaving the silence well enough alone.

"Uh, r-right, but I meant about helping with the backup team," I reiterate shakily, running a hand through my mussed hair and surely tangling the chopped ends worse than they already are. "Not that I don't appreciate you walking me back! I do. Just, I wasn't expecting my distress call to be taken quite so seriously that two captains and two lieutenants would be sent out, and…" I fight to find something else to say, but I can't. The sentence hangs strangely in the air, and it almost seems as if Captain Hitsugaya considers it for a brief moment before he looks back ahead towards the city.

"If you want to thank anyone, thank Hinamori," he says after a beat. "She was the one who thought something was wrong enough to warrant bringing it to my attention. And according to her, she wouldn't have thought that had it not been for your own insistence something was amiss during your briefing."

"I wasn't aware anyone was paying attention to me." Mumbling to myself, I don't intend for the captain to hear it, but I speak a little louder than I wanted and he does anyway.

His reply startles me a little. "They obviously should have."

"Maybe," I whisper. "Only hindsight is perfect, though."

"How long were you on that squad, Kozaki?"

Blinking and mildly annoyed at the lack of honorific but not able to bring myself to counter it due to how he staggeringly outranks me, I answer flatly. "Thirty years, sir."

I'm a little wary when his eyes suddenly narrow. "And how long have you been a Shinigami?" My arms cross in my yukata sleeves.

"Fifty."

Hitsugaya hums contemplatively in the back of his throat, but he quickly shakes his head as if shaking away a thought. "Interesting. My point however is that you were on Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru's squad for three decades. You have the experience to know when to be wary. That shouldn't be discounted so quickly."

I'm positive now that he has not heard about my theory. He would change his tune real quick if he had.

Still, the arguably simple display of belief that they should have been willing to listen to me hits…something. I'm not sure if it's awkwardness, pride, grief, or a combination of all three. Unbidden, I clench my fingers tighter around the music player and remember Haruka's words. Tatsuyoru was more than he let on. He knew more than he let on.

He _believed_ me.

…believed me…

I swallow hard. "I think Tatsuyoru…I think Tatsuyoru may have listened to me, actually. But I don't know." _I don't know anything anymore_ is what I refrain barely from saying. I also don't know if Hitsugaya can hear the unspoken word, but I almost feel that with his eyes, he can. And no, that didn't make sense to me, either.

We are almost at the gate now, and I can tell that my impromptu escort (seems I was interacting with a lot of impromptu people today) does not want to discuss our current topic further beyond the walls. I sympathize with this, and only nod at his response. "Do you?" The gates open and we pass without another word spoken, walking in the direction of the Division 5 barracks. There are whispers, of course. There wouldn't _not_ be. A captain (and he's wearing his haori, not that there's any doubt with his hair) walking with a woman dressed in street clothes. But not just any woman in street clothes, _me_ in street clothes. People know who I am now. I wryly note that I'm almost a celebrity now, and it's definitely not in a good way.

Oh well. One more for the rumor mill, I guess.

Reaching my stop doesn't take too long, but it is fully dark by the time we do, the streets lit with intermittent lanterns and a few fireflies stubbornly clinging to the remnants of summer. I bow to my escort politely. " _Arigato gozaimashita_ , Hitsugaya-taicho."

He gives an incline of his head back, but it is still more than I was expecting. I don't know why. " _Doitashimashita._ " Turning to walk away, I get several steps before his voice stops me.

"Kozaki-san," he says, and I turn with a level of déjà-vu in my gut that I know is unfounded but feel anyway. "Be prepared for a summons in the next few days." Something in his eyes that seems mildly like determination settles, his face sets stoically as usual but more decided, but I'm almost too tired of being suspicious to muster it again.

"What do you mean?"

Hitsugaya sighs a little before turning himself to leave. "Just be prepared." He's gone in a flash of _shunpo_ before I can question him further, and I'm left to stew in my confusion and mild annoyance. What is it with people I want to question suddenly leaving before I can? Is it _Leave Yoshiko Hanging_ _Month_ or something and no one told me? I'm thinking that's the case.

Heaving a sigh of my own, I throw my hands up in exasperation, one palm still cradling the music player, and walk into the barracks to face the dirty looks and poorly-hidden whispers. It's fine, I try to tell myself. I'll just find out whenever these summons happen. Or don't. Either or.

I wind through the halls until I find my bunk with its flimsy partitions and collapse onto my futon without bothering to change. I do stare at the hunk of plastic, debating. Finally after a moment's consideration and shoving away the guilt that inevitably comes, I begin unwinding the headphones again.

She said Tatsuyoru wanted the squad to have it. She said he wanted us to know him. I'm angry. Angry that he couldn't just show us himself, but it's too late for regrets, isn't it? I'm angry at Hitsugaya for not giving me a straight answer. I'm angry at Tatsuyoru for lying. I'm angry at myself for being so fidgety. I'm angry at Fūmittsu for ignoring me. I'm angry, but I'm also curious enough to forego that fury.

Tired, too.

So I jam the earbuds in my ears, and after fiddling with the thing for several minutes, finally find the button that turns the blighted thing on. It powers up, something scrolling across the screen, a logo. I'm amazed briefly that it works in Seireitei, but I figure Tatsuyoru probably had it modified so that it could work in a place so saturated with reishi.

The screen I'm met with presents me with a bit of a dilemma. It's in English. And while I can comprehend the language fairly well thanks to a few elective courses in the academy and my own curiosity, it's…weird. Still, I press a few buttons to learn how navigation works—pretty straightforward—and select the "playlists" option for lack of a better idea. A veritable collection of the things pops up, and I struggle to make out that each one has a name, surname and given, presented in Western order, which trips me briefly. _Akane Ito_ is one of the first ones I decipher.

I hesitate before deciding not to select a playlist just yet and continue scrolling down. The weirdness gets worse the further I go, the more names I figure. There must be a playlist on this thing for everyone Tatsuyoru knows! Ito-san, Hotaru, Haruka, Division 5's Fourth Seat, a couple Shinigami from Division 7 that I know Tatsuyoru was acquainted with. Finally, I click on a random name—it just so happens to read _Takeshi Fujita_ —and once the folder blips open, I'm further disturbed to find only one item.

What?

I squint at the foreign text to try and figure out the title before abandoning the endeavor. Playing the file only yields a piano piece that while I find oddly fitting to Fujita as I remember him, otherwise is unexciting. My brow furrows. I back out of Fujita's folder and scroll down near the bottom in search of my own name, wanting to know but also not. I find it— _Yoshiko Kozaki_ —in grainy blue letters and select it with shaking fingers. As with Fujita, only a single audio file pops up, but this is one I can read. _In The Night_. An odd name for a song, I think. If it even _is_ a song. I have to keep myself open to the possibility that any one of these files could be something other than music like Haruka claimed.

My thumb hovers over the ok button. Almost like someone froze the joint, I can't bring myself to play the file. It's an invasion of privacy, right? Tatsuyoru only wanted us to have this music player if something drastic happened to him. But how drastic had he meant? Disappearance didn't count, did it? Not if he could very well walk through that door any minute and be well within his rights to stab me for going through his music, something that even his wife had insinuated was personal to him?

Right?

I apply more pressure to the little circle of green plastic. It creaks a little under the pad of my thumb, foreboding, like one of those Greek oracles. Something about the blue, digital text is taunting, but I can't explain reasonably why or how. I'm biting my cheek now. Painfully, hard enough that I taste blood. It tastes like utter indecision. I press a little harder, and…

" _Fuck_." Hissing, my thumb slides away from the little control pad to flick to button to power off the device. I yank the earbuds out of my ears with as much unnecessary force as I used to put them in, and I swiftly jar open a drawer in a little locked table I keep in my quarters. Throwing the music player into the depths, I shove it closed, lock it up, and toss the key back in its little hidey hole. My face buries itself in my pillow as I try to convince myself that I just made the right decision.

* * *

 **Final Words:** Translations! Woohoo!

 _Chabudai_ : A small table that sits low to the ground.

 _Gomen nasai_ : I'm sorry

 _Arigato gozaimashita_ : Thank you. _Gozaimashita_ is past-tense, meaning the thing about which one is thanking has already occurred or been done.

 _Doitashimashite_ : You're welcome.

And there was Hitsugaya, briefly! I hope I didn't butcher his character. I watched several episodes with him in them, but I'm paranoid about this sort of thing.

Thanks for reading, and R&R!

~SurreptitiousFox


	5. Monsters

_**Curtain Call  
By:**_ SurreptitiousFox245

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just a poor social scientist wanting to play with applying sociological and criminological theory to fictional characters and situations. Don't judge me. Or sue me. Suing me would be worse. Please don't do it.

 _ **Quick Author's Note:**_ I'M ON A ROLL! This one's long, has a bit of background for Yoshiko, and also has a lot of improvised theory. Seriously, if anyone has any problems or questions about the theory explained, please ask or review or criticize or something. Feedback is loved. It's how I improve. Or endeavor to improve. Yeah. That.

On another note, after this week, my updates are probably going to be hella sporradic. I've got a group project I'm spearheading for my serial murder class (a presentation on David Berkowitz - just an FYI, but biopsychosocial profiles are more difficult than one might think. Fun, but difficult) that's due at the end of the month, so I'm frantically researching and coordinating and stuff. I'm also starting to seriously look into grad school options, and as the UK is seeming like where I'm going to end up, I'm also frantically researching funding options and costs and programs (sorry - _programmes_ ) and blah. It's fun, but holy shit, if I want to do a campus tour, I have to buy a plane ticket and cross an ocean.

In all seriousness, though, updates are going to be slower, and I apologize in advance for that. So without further adieu, enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5:**_ Monsters

* * *

" _Murderers are not monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them._ "

-Alice Sebold, _The Lovely Bones_

* * *

 **I see monsters, I feel fear.** No, I think, fear isn't apt enough. Terror. The thing that claws in the night and doesn't let go. It has my heart, now. It has my soul. And it doesn't want to let me be. _Will not_ let me be.

I recognize the hut, the shaky pillars of wood beams barely holding the roof above my head. Wood smoke from the hearth. It's one room, ostensibly, but I know that it goes farther than that. Much farther. This place is a house of horrors, has dug its evil claws into the earth slowly over centuries, and its simplicity masks the hell that it truly is. But I don't find that out until it's too late, until much later. This…this is before. When I could— _should_ —run, but don't.

Curled into the corner (I'm not allowed in the center of the room), I'm picking at the fraying hem of my yukata that's a shade too small. I'm tiny anyway, but here, I'm tinier. A child. Hungry and desolate and lost. But the seventy-third district of Rukongai is not so forgiving, and this curse of reiatsu is how I end up in my predicament in the first place, so desperate for food that I steal or go with anyone who offers to feed me. It's how I end up with a monster, but I don't know any better back then. Now. Then. Now. I don't know. It blurs.

A figure kneels in front of me, something in hand that I recognize fuzzily as food. I blink up at a face I can't quite make out before giving a weak smile and taking the object. "Thank you." My voice is young but raspy, broken from starvation and confusion.

"You're welcome, little one," answers a flat tone that in retrospect should have sent me running. I find it comforting instead in my naïveté, the only person who even tried to help me since I wound up in Soul Society with no idea where I was, who I was. Who I am. The only voice that is not outright scathing, that does not call me urchin and shoo me away with harsh words telling me a second death would be kinder, is justified. Not yet. He will. Then recant. Then beg a favor, claim I will not be useless if I just do his bidding, find another girl for him to torture and torment and kill, what he intended for me before deciding I could be useful in other ways than to satisfy his urge for savagery. He will. But not yet.

I bite into the object, a fruit of some kind. A peach, maybe? It's hard to tell. "You haven't been here long, have you?" I shake my head no in lieu of answering.

"Do you have a name?" A hand runs along my hair, petting it like I am a creature to be kept and marveled. I'm put off by the motion, but I don't stop it. Instead, I move my head negatively again. No. I don't have a name. Not one that I remember, anyway.

The figure hums. "We'll have to change that, won't we? You're a pretty child… Yoshiko. I'll call you Yoshiko." I am not asked my opinion, if I like the name or want another. It is expected that I will accept, and as a meek child, I do not argue or fight. I become Kozaki Yoshiko that day in that shack in that seventy-third district, so named by a monster who in lieu of tossing me away decided I had a purpose and used me instead. But I don't think him a monster, not yet. He is my savior. He is my brother. He is my world. Why would I question him? Why would I doubt him?

So I become Yoshiko against my will to conform to the wants of a beast, and I somehow convince myself that it is a good thing.

* * *

 **Screaming is not a fun way** to wake up in the morning, in case anyone was wondering. Particularly so if you share quarters with others.

But I don't hear their vocal complaints as I bolt upright, barely able to breathe and fighting to get the memories out of my head, something roaring in my ears, but I can't tell what. Blinking them away doesn't work. Gripping fistfuls of blanket doesn't work. Pulling at my hair doesn't work. I don't know what to do—I keep seeing his eyes, his face, hearing his voice and it grates. Emotionless tones that turn to orders that turn to—

No. I can't listen, I can't hear, I can't see. I can't, I can't, I _can't_ —

"—ozaki!" Something touches my head, pries my hands away from my hair, but it's filtered, like it's through water or through…I don't know. " _Kozaki_! Breathe!" Breathe? Oh, I'm not doing that, am I? Or, well, I'm doing too much of it too quickly.

Sucking in another gulp of air, I try force myself to stop inhaling, hold, and then exhale without choking on my own throat. It's difficult, like my lungs are a rubber band and just want to keep taking in air without letting any escape, even when they're at capacity. I'm so lightheaded, too. My eyes are squeezed shut, a blank canvas for the images that sweep by, but they're fading now as I try to breathe like a normal person.

 _Breathe_ , I tell myself. _Breathe_.

Whatever's on my head becomes clearer now, the pressure of it. And I slowly allow my eyes to crack open. Grey irises search for whatever's touching me, and I see a white haori and blond hair. Captain Hirako grins. It's subdued, though. Worried. "Y'okay now?"

"W-what…?" I try to ask why he's in squad barracks, but I apparently don't have my breathing under control enough to speak. Trying to sets me off into another round of hyperventilating, which my captain coaches me through. I see another figure kneel beside me, and it makes things worse for a moment before I realize that it's a tired-looking Lieutenant Hinamori and calm myself. It's not _him_.

"Good," my captain says. "Don't push yourself. It's alright."

My lungs seem to be relatively cooperative now, and I try again. "What…happened?" I'm exhausted. It's all I can do to get the words out, like my limbs, tongue, and eyes are made of lead and just want to drop.

"You screamed and your reiatsu spiked dangerously. Several of your bunkmates were concerned about a bit of damage and called for myself and the captain," Hinamori explains sweetly. I blink at her before glancing around, and my eyes bug out of my head when I see that the room is destroyed. Utterly decimated. It's like a tornado swept through the building and gouges are torn through the floor. The noise I heard hadn't been in my head, then—I know this was me. Destruction is _everywhere_.

Everywhere except around me.

I look back to her, tiredness forgotten. My voice is hoarse, but I manage. "A _bit_ of damage?"

She chuckles and waves her hands nervously. "Oh, it can be fixed! No worries!" I just stare at her as Captain Hirako uses the hand still on the top of my head to ruffle my already knotted hair. My scalp is tender from where I'd been pulling at it.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he says. "Like Hinamori-chan said, it can be fixed. I'm more concerned 'bout you, Kozaki-kun. Y'okay?"

"No." Replying reflexively, I shiver and note the sudden feeling of weakness at hearing my name. That stupid name. I try to curl into myself and nuzzle into the cavernous warmth of my bedding to make the feeling go away. It doesn't work. "No, I'm not okay."

All it takes is an eyebrow raising on my captain's face for me to know what's coming next and snap before it can. " _No_ , I don't want to talk about it!" If I weren't so spooked, my tone would have mortified me. Instead, I just feel a bit of satisfaction at the mildly stupefied looks on their faces.

My captain removes his hand from my head and lifts both in a gesture of peace. "I just wanna' know if it was anything to do with your squad."

"No." My answer is clipped and cold and harsh.

He presses, "No?"

I glare. " _No_."

"Alright, I ain't gonna' force ya'," he reassures, but I don't _feel_ very reassured. So I scoff and burrow my face into my knees so I don't have to look at them.

"Go away."

Captain Hirako snickering is not what I want to hear right now, but he does anyway. "If ya' really want us to, but don't 'cha think we oughta' find ya' a new place to stay? This one's kinda' trashed." Not looking up, I sigh because he's right and I don't want to admit it. My area may be clear, but I can't stay here. Not if they want to fix the room for everyone else. I peek at the group of disgruntled Shinigami clustered around the doorway to the barrack, and from the way they're glaring at me, maybe not being near them right now would be a good idea. Glancing the other way at a new hole in the wall, I note the time is early morning. I need to be up anyway.

Sighing, I lift my head. "Alright." Hinamori smiles happily while Captain Hirako just puts his hand on my hair again. My eyebrow twitches, but I have presence of mind enough not to contradict him. _He's the captain,_ my mind repeats, a mantra to keep myself from yelling at him more than I already have.

Kami, and the other Shinigami heard my insubordination. How embarrassing, I think through the lingering unrest.

"Great!" Captain croons. I'm not in the mood for this, but I grit my teeth and say nothing more. "Hinamori-chan, can ya' show her to a private room, then? Least until this gets cleaned?"

If anything, this makes me angrier. _Private room_ , I want to scoff. It's only in case… _this_ happens again. Which it _won't_ , I think as I shove my belongings into a bag, eyeing the tea I forgot to down the night before. The one that the doctors gave me when I mentioned the nightmares, the first time I woke screaming.

That time had been the mission. The mission was nothing compared to when I lived with a…thing. I can't dignify giving him the designation of soul, of person, of human. He doesn't deserve it. I've never _wished_ death on anyone, not really. I've caused it on plenty in the name of a mission. Killing people on orders, though, is few and far between. Hollows are a little different as they are purified and sent to Soul Society unless the soul in question is to be sent to Hell. I've never _wished_ death on anyone but _him_. That my wish was granted didn't bring me peace, but revenge did settle something in me. Not completely. But something. And that was enough, for a time, but the nightmares are still bad when I have them. The memories are still strong and will never fade so long as I continue to draw breath.

What pisses me off the most was that I had them under control before now. Stupid Tatsuyoru and his stupid mission and his stupid secrets and—

"Kozaki-chan?" Hinamori's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and a few glances finds us in front of one of the private quarters that is typically reserved for guests visiting the division. Such occurrences are few and far between, so it is vacant. I figure this is where I will be housed for the time being. I'm chagrinned to realize I do not fully remember packing up my things and walking here, nor do I know where Captain Hirako has gone off to. Probably work. Maybe. One can never tell.

Her choice of honorific grates at me as is typical, but there's the added strain of hearing my name— _his_ name, actually—that I try to ignore. "My apologies, Lieutenant. I'm still…somewhat out of it."

She smiles understandingly. "It's alright! This is where you're going to be staying, then. If there's anything you need, you can let me or the captain know. I know you're still on medical leave, right?" I nod, not trusting my voice. It's wavering anyway—I don't need it to give out.

"Also!" she exclaims as she's halfway turning to leave me to my own devices. "There's going to be a captain's meeting in a few hours. Captain Hirako wanted me to tell you that you're being summoned as well."

 _Be prepared for a summons in the next few days_. I'm acutely aware of what Captain Hitsugaya told me last night, and I can't help wryly wondering if he was being generous in his estimation of how long it would take. He obviously knew something I didn't. This has to be about the mission—I just assumed they'd take my statement and be done with it, no direct involvement with captains needed. Apparently, I could not be so lucky.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." I remain as cordial as I possibly can, though all I want to do is collapse and stare at a ceiling for a few hours, trying not to think. "When precisely should I be ready for this meeting?" I will not lower myself to asking about expected conduct. I can figure that one out on my own. I don't call myself an unofficial behaviorist for nothing.

Hinamori waves my question off with her happy smile. "The captain will come and get you, don't worry! But it should be two hours, three at the most." I nod and bid her a further, quipped farewell. As with the memorial, I'm not in the mood for socialization, and she thankfully realizes that quicker than she did before. Whether it's because of witnessing my outburst or because of prior experience with my sour mood, I don't know.

Shuffling into my room reveals plain accommodations that I'm actually happy to see. I don't want to personalize anything. Plain isn't attached. Plain can be lost. Plain can be moved. I stuff my collection of trinkets in a drawer, Tatsuyoru's music player included, away from sight and out of mind. My uniforms and small assemblage of street clothes are similarly stashed where no one will pay them any mind. The only thing I don't put away immediately is the tin full of tea leaves Division 4 gave me.

I pry the lid off after a few seconds and cringe at the sight of the loose, dry herbs. They help, but _gods_ if they don't make me feel horrible. But they _work,_ and I guess that's the most important thing, isn't it?

Still… I eye the little kitchenette in the corner of my new private room. I have some time to take a nap, and so soon after having a nightmare like that. I'm liable to have another one if I'm not careful. Wrenching my kettle out from my mess of stuff that I packed away in a closet, I begin boiling water, lost in thought. Actually, it's less thought and more haze. I'm not really thinking of anything in particular, just staring off into space and trying to ignore the exhaustion begging me to lay down and forego the tea that could keep me from having another dream. I can't keep dreaming like that. I can't. Not if it's the mission and not if it's the past. I can't

The summons is weighing, too, but a little less somehow. I pin that on Captain Hitsugaya's cryptic warning the night before. Of course the mission would have drawn attention from captains, in hindsight. But for them to want me at a meeting? It means it deals directly with me, and I'm not sure if I'm happy about that or not.

Actually, scratch that—I'm livid. Terrified. I want nothing to do with ranking officers outside of the basic, cordial exchange of superior and subordinate. Give me my orders and leave me to my own devices outside of work. That's all I want. Not this…espionage and lying and interest and attention. I don't do well with attention. Never have. Not since before.

Nope, not going there. Nope, nope, nope.

The kettle whistles, and I pull it off the lit burner to a cooler one, preparing to measure out the two grams of leaves I'm supposed to use per one cup of water. But I pause, thinking. Two grams. Would it…would it really do anything horrible if I took a little more? Just to make sure the nightmares didn't come back? That dream was more of a memory and it was more of a terror than a nightmare. It was stronger. Who's to say that if I take the normal dose this time around, this soon, that it will even work? I'm not willing to take any chances.

My moment of indecision dregs on, but eventually, I give a bone-weary shrug to the empty room.

I drop four grams of leaves into the cup.

* * *

 **Captain Hirako has to come into** my room and physically shake me to get me to wake, and I'm groggy as hell, but I count my experiment as a win—I didn't have any dreams. At all. Not even a little tiny peak of one. So I stumble a little when I get up because I'm dizzy, and so what my heart is fluttering like I just flash-stepped a marathon against Captain Sui-Feng? Big deal. I didn't dream.

The blond is concerned as we make our way to Division 1's meeting room, I can tell, but I try to brush him off without being rude. I'm in business mode now. Curt. Polite. Demure. That's what I am right now. I'm not Yoshiko, I'm Kozaki. Faceless. Nameless.

Fuck it, I'm going to a _captain's meeting_. I passed _faceless_ and _nameless_ the second that mission went _FUBAR_.

I'm very briefly informed of proper conduct, a very skeletal, almost sketchy outline of what's expected of me. Captain Hirako will enter first, the last of the captains to do so as he is the one with the guest, and then one of the attendants will motion me into the room. I'm to walk between the rows to face Captain-Commander Kyoraku, bow, then wait for instructions. I'll be asked whatever it is they want to ask me, then I answer as concisely as I can while still being as informative as possible. I do not leave until dismissed, and I bow before walking back the way I came.

It's very simple. Simple makes me nervous.

I scuff the toe of my _tabi_ against the wood floor as I wait. I can hear some talking, but it's faint through the walls. My attendant is stone-faced and cold, not looking at me, so I pretend he doesn't exist in kind. It's just as well—the panic that I woke with earlier hasn't fully dissipated, so I'm dealing with an almost painful lump of anxiety in the back of my throat I can only hope I'm able to swallow before they call me in.

The different tones of the captains are interesting to try and decipher. I can kind of make out which ones belong to Captains Hitsugaya, Kuchiki, and Hirako, as well as Captains Kotetsu and Sui-Feng, but they're kind of distinctive on their own. At least to me. The others are a little more difficult.

Finally, I'm motioned in by the stoic attendant. Captain Hirako is the first person my eyes latch onto, and he's smiling at me as per usual. I take a level of comfort in the familiarity because the cavernous room gives a whole new meaning to the term _intimidating_. Captain Hitsugaya is the next person I recognize. I don't outwardly greet him, but he's the only other captain I've ever had any contact with outside of my own. That in and of itself in this moment is a comfort.

Captain Muguruma gives me a brow raise as I pass him. He's a wind-type, isn't he? His zanpakuto? There's a streak in his reiatsu that seems familiar. He's probably sensing the same in mine. Kurotsuchi I've heard so many horror stories about. His face…my mind gives a shudder. The augmentations and face paint make me want to turn tail and hide. So does the sheer concentration of reiatsu in this room. And they're restraining themselves!

I'm shaking like a leaf by the time I make it to the center of the floor. I'm so hyperaware of every breath being drawn…I just want to leave. Knowing I can't makes it worse. The room's too _big_. A glance at my captain confirms to me that this is where I'm supposed to stop, so I dip myself into a perfect ninety degree bow until the Captain-Commander laughs at me. Startled, I can't help thinking the man is almost too easy-going for his job, but then again, he's more than qualified.

"So you're Kozaki Yoshiko-chan, then?" he asks. I'm taken aback a little at his…not frivolity, but more…carefreeness? Yes, that's appropriate. Captain-Commander Kyōraku is very carefree. "That mission of yours caused quite a bit of a stir."

Keeping quiet because I don't know what to say, I aim my gaze downwards. My hands are clasped in front of me. If they weren't, they'd be trembling something horrible. "I know that this is going to be difficult, Kozaki-chan, and I'm sorry in advance. But I am aware you have some interesting information about the attack. I think we'd all like to hear it, if you wouldn't mind."

 _If I wouldn't mind_. I want to scoff. Of course I mind. But I don't have a choice.

My mouth opens, and like with my conversation with Captain Hirako in the hospital room, once the story starts pouring, it doesn't stop until I'm finished. Everyone waits patiently for me to complete the tale, though several minute spikes in reiatsu I'm able to sense tell me that they're holding back comments. I don't know if this is normal proceedings or if they were asked to refrain from doing anything to spook me. Probably the latter. I understand enough about Captain Hirako to figure it was probably suggested.

"Hmm," the Captain-Commander begins once I've well and truly stopped my recounts, voice wavering and tears barely at bay. I'm dizzier now than I was before from trying to keep my breathing steady and the sobs back. "That definitely clears up some discrepancies."

The voice of Captain Sui-Feng almost makes me jump, her interjection is so swift and out of nowhere. "How are you aware of Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru's survival?" I don't have to look to _feel_ the scrutiny aimed at the side of my head, and I flinch visibly. This, I think, is why my captain gives a huff of a chuckle and comes to my defense.

"Calm down. I told her! Thought she oughtta' know after she told me all that," he laughs. I can tell by the lack of a rebuttal that the woman is angered, but at a loss for words. She's clearly trying to poke holes in my story, but I know full well that it isn't going to work. Mostly.

"I'm more interested in this theory of hers," another voice crawls across my skin. I feel my hackles raise—it came from behind me which makes the general creepiness all the worse. Captain Kurotsuchi should not be allowed to be so…shudder-inducing. "It wasn't explained, and I certainly would have heard of it if it were true."

Kyōraku gestures kindly to me. "Kozaki-chan?" He's inviting, not forcing, and I appreciate that. My eyes are still downcast, but I stand a little straighter as a result.

"Thirty years ago, I noticed something odd about a few missions my squad was sent on," I begin, proud of myself for my voice not wavering. It certainly feels shaky. "Hollows behave differently depending on their strength—that's not something that's ever been in dispute. But I began to notice that it wasn't…homogenous. Animals act similarly to one another, have the same range of cognitive ability mixed with instinct that produces a typical range of exhibited and observable behavior. Lower level Hollows, I noticed, did not consistently act the same like they should have been, though there were plenty of similarities. Appearance-wise, Hollows are individualistic, certainly. And it's common knowledge that Hollow's are souls who have lost their hearts to despair. My… _theory_ , is quite simple, really. Souls have a personality, correct? So do Hollows."

Like with Sui-Feng, I can feel the scientist's eyes narrow, along with a few other peoples'. "That's ridiculous. They're overtaken by baser instinct when hollowfication occurs. Any _individualization_ like you claim happens through artificial means _only_." Captain Hirako coughs loudly, angrily. I feel overconfident enough at this point from getting through my definition without stuttering that I look over to him. If looks could kill, Captain Kurotsuchi would be experiencing reincarnation right about now. I almost want to take a step back. The look is _that_ visceral.

But why…?

I'm a moron, I think as it all but slaps me in the face. Visored. Captain Hirako is a Visored. He _has_ a Hollow side to him, _is_ a Hollow if you want to argue. It was _artificially_ done, but…he is not overtaken by instinct. Captain Muguruma is not overtaken by instinct. Captain Aikawa, Ōtoribashi, Yadōmaru—they are not overtaken by instinct.

How could I have forgotten that? That's why my theory didn't make my captain automatically think I'm crazy—because he _knows_. He knows I'm right, on some level.

I feel a little more empowered. Captain Hirako's approval now is suddenly all the validation I need. It's like the proof I've wanted for decades but was never able to get on my own. Trying to get a Hollow to talk is harder than one might think. "I don't think so. Behavior reflects personality—think of this as the basic tenant to my theory, the foundation that it's built off of. I believe that a Hollow's behavior is on a level reflective of the personality of the host soul, the original soul that experienced the hollowfication first hand."

"So, what, you're sayin' there're Menos out there skipping in fields and smelling daisies? Just makes 'em easier to kill! Get to the point, girl." Aaaaand there goes my empowerment. Zaraki's voice makes me want to curl back into a ball and die inside. I barely restrain, slumping a little.

"H-Hollowfication is traumatic, right?" Cringing at my squeaking, I glance back to my captain for reassurance. He nods. "A traumatic event is going to change a person's personality and, therefore, alter their behavior. Depending on how traumatic and the person's own mind, it can be a very drastic change. I-i-if you have a soul already so despaired that they turn into a Hollow, the process could break them mentally. Or…Hollows devour souls, too—as they eat, their sentience, their intelligence comes back to them, correct? I mean, they're still…w-what I'm try-trying to get at…"

Crossing his arms, Captain Muguruma sends me an almost conspiratorial look and nods. "The trauma makes 'em revert to baser instincts as a defense mechanism. Absorbing souls breaks this down and makes the Hollow stronger, but the damage has already been done?"

"Exactly!" I say, relieved though still a bit mortified. I'm making a fool out of myself. "B-but that's—that's speculation, really. The point is more that they exhibit behavior governed by a personality, to some extent, regardless of how… _regressed_ , I suppose, their minds are as Hollows. And…and behavior can be predicted. It can be tracked."

Sui-Feng scoffs at me, blatant and unforgiving. "You track reiatsu emissions, physical evidence, sightings. That's nothing new."

I shake my head. "No. I…" Biting my lip, I consider my words very carefully as I'm looked at anticipatingly. Do I really want to tempt the beast? All of my doubts about this thing are rolling around in my head now that I'm finally having them be considered in a serious (or not so serious, depending on who you want to ask) environment. Also, I never said a word of this to Captain Hirako, never suggested it, never hinted. He never questioned me on it, and I never asked. I could be so far left of field with this and not know… Finally, I close my eyes, take a deep breath.

My eyes open, and I muster the courage to look the Division 2 captain straight in the eye. The intensity in her gaze makes me want to puke, almost, but I hold steady. Or at least, I think I do and that's enough for me. "I can track a Hollow without any of that. It's what I did on the mission in question."

"Did a bang-up job on _that_ one, pipsqueak," Zaraki grumbles. I feel a flare of anger, but it's squelched mostly by terror and lingering dizziness from adrenaline and my tea. Shouldn't that have worn off by now? Anxiety probably isn't helping, in hindsight.

Kyōraku waves him off. "It is definitely difficult to believe, Captain Zaraki. If Kozaki-chan would be so kind as to explain what she noticed about the mission?"

Swallowing my apprehension, I do my best to slap my professional persona on top of my normal timid one and say, "We were told in the briefing that we were to track down a Hollow, sighted as being mid-level at the highest, in the World of the Living, District One-Two-Seven. The reason Squad Five was being dispatched instead of the case being relegated to the on-duty Division 5 patrolman was due to the Hollow's observed tendency to ' _vanish_ ' in terms of reiatsu emission. This was noted as being extraordinarily intermittent in practice, but the masking extended for abnormally long periods of time. Another abnormality was that this Hollow was not ostensibly feeding. No unusual, sudden disappearances of plusses were noted, nor were any attacks on Humans in the area exhibiting mid-high levels of reiatsu. As an ordinary threat assessment of this Hollow could not be carried out, we were to perform one upon contact, and depending on the outcome either exercise or report to Headquarters and await further instructions. A secondary objective was to discover what in the region could have been causing the masking of the Hollow's reiatsu and also deal with this obstruction accordingly.

"A mid-level is believed to be physiologically and spiritually unable to mask its reiatsu. I disagree—it does not mask its reiatsu because it does not see the point, not because it does not possess the ability to do so. By the time a mid-level Hollow has reached that point, they have usually absorbed a handful of souls, enough to sort of ' _take the edge off_ ' of the regression caused by the trauma of hollowfication. They are starting to regain basic elements of their personalities. It's usually at this point that I've noticed a marked change in their behavior, a branching off, if you will. Some start to show regret and remorse for having to eat plusses, some disgust, some revel in it—they begin to individualize again. It's little things that say this. Sometimes they'll verbally apologize to their victims, claw symbols into where they found the plus. If a human is involved, certain things done to the physical corpse can say a lot about how the Hollow felt when it attacked. I've had Hollows that I've killed apologize to _me_ for what they've done. I've killed Hollows who have laughed about it. That being said, while the elements of a personality begin to form at this stage, they're still mostly behind that wall of regression in terms of cognition. They're still instinctual and beastial creatures, definitely far from having the intelligence to think about hiding their reiatsu, but it's akin to the difference between a domesticated dog and a wolf."

Captain Kurotsuchi interrupts me with something that almost sounds like a mild screech combined with a sneer. "And what evidence do you have of any of this?"

"I…I don't have any. It's based on my own observations. I've written a lot of it down, particular cases, particular missions," I shrug. "But the notes are mine and were intended for my own use. I'd have to go through and organize them, but you're welcome to them should you wish." As soon as the words are out of my mouth, my stomach drops and I probably blanche. That hadn't sounded as threatening in my head. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…

 _He was trying to make you learn to stand up for yourself_.

 _You expect to be dismissed, so you do not fight when it happens._

I blink at the remembered words. That's right. According to Haruka…and, well, I have my doubts, but… What kind of disservice am I doing my superior if I _don't_ defend myself? If nothing else, if I do not defend myself on this particular issue? They're investigating the mission that led to his disappearance—if I back down on this, back down about having useful information, how could I live with myself?

I couldn't.

Straightening my posture and finally lifting my head, I purse my lips and turn so I'm staring directly at probably one of the most terrifying captains of the Gotei 13 straight in the face. His eyes are narrowed at me from under the pharaoh-like adornments around his face and head, under the makeup. I somehow keep my resolve. "I fail to see the need. I doubt you had the intelligence to use any proper research methods, so whatever _information_ you claim to have is worthless." Biting my tongue, I send the captain of Division 12 a glower on par to the one he is currently sending me.

" _Regardless_ ," Captain Kuchiki—not Division 6, but rather Division 13—cuts through the tension, "the finer points of this theory do not explain how you came to the conclusion that something was wrong."

Glaring one last, lingering second at the Division 12 captain and feeling rather lucky to not have been turned to a pile of ash for doing so, I shift back to looking intermittently at all the other captains in assembly. "Initially, it was just the fact that a mid-level Hollow's reiatsu was fluctuating in such a manner. The apparent lack of feeding on the Hollow's part was another issue—feeding is an instinctual urge for a Hollow of that level. They may be able to regret or feel disgust about doing so, but they by and large cannot refrain from indulging. The final issue was when we arrived in the World of the Living and I noticed there was no problem sensing reiatsu. To clarify, no one on Squad 5 was having any problems sensing each other, even when we split up into fireteams and were circling the district perimeter. We were being pinged notifications of plusses in various sectors, and our own positions were triangulating properly on _denreishinki_. If there were an external factor hiding the Hollow's reiatsu, it would have been effecting the whole of the surrounding area indiscriminately—the fact that it was not told me that it was a singular event being caused by the Hollow in question."

"The Hollow was doing it itself?"

I peer over at Captain Hitsugaya and nod in answer. "Yes."

"The regular patrol should have been able to pick up on that," he grumbles, turquoise eyes narrowing over to Captain Hirako, whose grin falters.

The blond acquiesces, "You're correct. I've already got an officer investigatin'—it seemed off to me, too."

"Kozaki-chan," Captain-Commander Kyōraku breaks through the conversation before it can completely take root. "You mentioned that Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru detained the two of you when the fireteams separated? Why did he do this?" I swallow.

"He wanted to speak to me, sir." _Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask…_ I know how that conversation looks. I know how it looked to me before I spoke with Haruka, how a part of me still views it.

"What did he have to say?"

 _Gods damn it!_

Biting my lip, I ask hesitantly. "In general, or specifically, sir?" The eyebrow above the eyepatch raises, but he indulges my request.

"Specifically."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, remembering. Recalling. Rain on my skin… "He grabbed my arm first to keep me from leaving, then… I'd been checking my pager and pretty vocal about thinking something was wrong. He didn't like that. He told me to keep my theories to myself and threatened me with insubordination charges. Before I made to leave, though, he told me to keep my mouth shut again. It was different than the first time, his tone. And he called me by my given name—he never did that. Not once in the thirty years I've known him."

"You claim this delay's what caused the Hollows to attack the two teams separately?" Captain Kuchiki Rukia asks.

Nodding, I clarify, "Yes, to an extent. Had Tatsuyoru-san not delayed the two of us, then the fireteams would have been closer to the regroup point than we were at the time of the attacks. Having worked with Tatsuyoru-san and Ito-san for as long as I have, I'm fairly confident that they would have ordered the teams to the rendezvous point once the Hollows showed up on our pagers. I was sent as backup for Tatsuyoru-san's team because they were being approached ostensibly by two Adjuchas and were deemed in the most need of assistance, but we otherwise were not in strategic spots to continue on to the rendezvous. The Hollows went straight for the two teams, too. They didn't search—they knew right where we were."

The Division 13 captain's brother decides to speak, and I'm decidedly more scared of this Captain Kuchiki than the other. "Were you following procedure?"

I frown. "We had our reiatsu properly masked as is protocol for missions to the World of the Living until we were forced into combat. We stood out no more than an ordinary plus would, even to a Menos-class. They knew where we would be and attacked accordingly. Forgive me for not believing that is merely coincidence."

"I will second Kozaki-san's opinion here," Captain Hitsugaya says suddenly. "When myself, Captain Hirako, and Lieutenants Matsumoto and Hinamori arrived in response to Kozaki-san's distress call, none of deceased Shinigami had been eaten by the Hollows. The only body displaced was Tatsuyoru Kohaku's, but the presence of his zanpakuto disproved any theories of his death."

"Yet she claims to have seen one of the Hollows feeding," Captain Iba interjects.

"I did, but I may have been mistaken. I explained that the Adjuchas I fought seemed to have the ability to distort one's senses. I do not believe that this was what caused the invisibility of reiatsu across a large scale—it didn't seem to work outside of a certain radius, and inside that radius, other senses aside from the ability to detect reiatsu were affected. It would have been noticeable had it been used large-scale, I think, or the Adjuchas would have had to have been in constant proximity to the mid-level. However, I was well within range when I witnessed that event, and I can't be certain that I didn't see what the Adjuchas wanted me to see. I suppose the same could be said about Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru's death." Admitting this leaves a very sour taste in my mouth, but it's true. I wasn't aware that there hadn't been signs of feeding on any of us. Touching the ends of my hair subconsciously, I _do_ wonder about Tatsuyoru's death. I remembered my hair being sliced. That had actually happened, so could I really argue that his death had been a trick when it happened in concurrence with something I had undeniable proof of?

My head hurts.

The Captain-Commander hums something to himself that I can't hear after a moment's contemplation. His good eye is looking at me with a level of sympathy I don't want. "I see… Thank you, Kozaki-chan. I believe that is all we need from you. You're dismissed." I start because the dismissal is abrupt and unexpected so quickly. The numbness of professionalism that had taken hold of me for most of the meeting ebbs away again, and I'm left with the gut-wrenching chills of anxiety and a little flickering flame of anger. That's it? No questions about what I think? I don't know why I am naïve enough to believe I will be asked in the first place, but I can't deny that the lack of it stings. I can help, can't I? My theory obviously has some merit, can't that be of use?

"I…," my jaw hinges and unhinges a few times, but I pry it shut and stiffly give another bow. "Y-yes, s—" Immediately frowning before I can finish, I straighten again, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. Stand up for myself…stand up for myself…hadn't I just done that? I defended my theory, defended what I saw, to some extent defended my decisions. But still, I'm being dismissed? Why? Why can't I…?

Releasing my lip from the iron grip of my teeth, I set my face and look Captain-Commander Kyōraku in the eye defiantly. Defiance, that's the key here. Defiance. Conviction. I've got this. I'm shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but I've got this.

"No."

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_ Don't hate me for the semi-cliffhanger. This was astronomically long and I didn't want to drag it out any more than I already have.

Also, just for reference, the tea that I'm having Yoshiko take for her nightmares is based off of a real medication used to treat nightmares in PTSD patients called Prazosin. It's also a blood pressure medication, hence her dizziness and grogginess. I've taken it - the side effects from the blood pressure drops are not fun. My mind gave her PTSD for obvious reasons, and I figured I'd give her something to take that was basically a tea version of Prazosin because I know reasonably well how it works.

Hope you liked it! R&R!

~SurreptitiousFox


	6. Poison of the Soul

_**Curtain Call  
By:**_ R_V_Grover

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Bleach, just my OCs. I'm only playing in the sandbox.

 _ **Quick Author's Note** **:**_ I edited this again. Yay. I also changed my username. Double yay.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 6:**_ Poison of the Soul

* * *

" _Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul._ "

-Flemeth, _Dragon Age II_

* * *

 **An interesting fact, one I learned** several years ago on a mission to the World of the Living, is that approximately ninety percent of all human communication is _nonverbal_. Humans only vocalize about one tenth of what they actually communicate. Body language, micro-expressions, inflection—humans pick up on more than they realize, and that "sixth sense" for danger one tends to experience has more weight than most give it credit. That charismatic, charming person about whom you think your gut is sending you false alarms…well, there's probably a reason for it. The mind will unconsciously pick up on the little ticks that go otherwise unnoticed. Intuition is far less mystical than most would like to believe.

Call me paranoid, but human science appears to back it up, so it can't be _all_ bad.

The general hubris of souls in Soul Society causes us to dismiss most human advancements, merely because while they may work for the World of the Living, that is not always the case for Soul Society. Take human electronics, for instance—Tatsuyoru's music player had to be heavily modified to be able to play in an environment so saturated with reishi and reiryoku. The necessary modifications are difficult and time-consuming processes barely anyone bothers with, and that is on the rare occasion that an individual actually sees a product of human society as worthwhile. This prejudice sort of extends to other things as well, and social sciences are not excluded. But at the end of the day, the souls in Soul Society were human once. The soul reflects the corporeal, and there is a transfer of customs and culture. We remember language, share elements of our society that are remembered somewhere, from another life, another time, even if those memories are barred from conscious recall. No one wants to remember their death, after all, that would be far too traumatic. However, for all we preach to be separate entities never meant to mix, souls and humans are not so different as they appear.

Taking this into consideration and from my own experiences, the postulation that communication between individuals is mostly wordless is not exclusive to humans. We souls do it as well, the subtle ticks and motions unique to a specific person that make us who we are, that make us distinguishable. I can see proof of it now in the Captain-Commander, the way he unconsciously grips the sleeves of his kimono, the way his fingers brush his chin in thought, the way he tilts his head ever-so-slightly to the side. The way his arms are folded, defensive, holding back. He knows and has decided more than he is saying, just as he is speaking more than he is telling. And I think on some level, that is why I defy his dismissal so easily—because it's clear in how he holds himself that he _wants_ me to.

" _No_."

Someone behind me coughs, but I don't flinch or pay it any mind. Kyōraku's brows almost disappear under the rim of his hat, and a level of amusement twinkles in his eye. He's looking at me like one would a misbehaving child, and I do not appreciate it. "No?"

"No," I reiterate. The certainty I channel into my voice surprises even me. "You're going to use what I told you to decide how to investigate what went wrong further, right? I may have been there, but no one knows the whole of what happened. Not really. And with all due respect…they were my squadmates. Tatsuyoru-san may not be dead, but he's missing. I thought he was dead and I left him behind. I left an injured comrade— _superior_ —behind. It was a bad judgement call, perhaps, but it was _my_ responsibility. You can't expect me to just walk away from this like I was never involved. I won't." Something whistles, and it's been so long that it takes me a second to recognize it as Fūmittsu. She approves. I have to fight the smile down to a twitch of my lips. It's the first time she's communicated with me in a week and a half.

The Captain-Commander does not look so impressed, however, and neither do several of the other captains. " _How dare you?!_ " Sui-Feng's righteous anger is not out of place for her, but it puts everything into perspective for me when Kyōraku holds a hand up to silence the beginning rumble of protests. I'm pretty sure actually that disobeying a direct order from the Captain-Commander is a crime on some level. It's like something snapped in me though. I reached my breaking point, and I don't care about the repercussions anymore. Stress piling on stress—being dismissed is nothing new to me, but it is the last straw I'm willing to carry in this instance.

"Do you?" he mumbles. I say nothing, but something in my face must give him his answer as he shakes his head. "This meeting is adjourned."

My stomach drops. Several muffled outcries sound, but otherwise, the captains begin filing out of the room. I'm frozen, though, and not paying them any mind until I slump forward and look at my feet. I'm still angry. I'm still indignant. But it…I obviously failed, right? No one's going to listen to me, and I'll fade back into obscurity, unable to do a damn thing to help find Tatsuyoru, to get answers, to…to… I lower myself into a stiff but still proper bow. "Si—"

"Kozaki-chan, Hirako-taicho, Hitsugaya-taicho," Captain-Commander Kyōraku cuts me off. I start, glancing back up at him in a bit of shock mixed with a bit of fear. "Remain behind, please."

The other captains give each other a few looks, but for the most part, no one says anything more. They're apparently much smarter than myself on being dismissed. My captain and Hitsugaya step to stand beside me, and I'm ashamed to admit that I cower back a little. Captain Hirako glances at me out of the corner of his eye; I think he wants to pat me on the head as he's fond of doing, but formalities strip this luxury. Much as I hate it, it'd be welcomed right now. Why keep me and my captain back if not to reprimand me? Then I have to ask why Captain Hitsugaya is here, too. Witness? For _what_? I don't know.

Clicking shut behind us with a doom-sealing _thud_ , the sound of the doors makes me flinch heavily. Kyōraku sits back into his chair and tips his hat after a long, poignant moment of silence. "My, my—you're a defiant one, aren't you Kozaki-chan?"

"N-not usually, sir," I mumble, still looking at the floor. "My apologies. I didn't mean to be disrespectful, I just…"

He laughs—actually throws his head back and laughs. "You're not in trouble, Kozaki-chan. I'm impressed! Not a lot of the rank and file would have the guts to stand their ground like you just did."

I don't know what to say to that.

Kyōraku sobers up and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The flowery kimono he drapes over his otherwise monochromatic shihakusho and haori almost billows over his shoulders. It makes him seem more intimidating—or it would if it weren't so feminine. In that manner, it almost takes the edge off. "I can't just let anyone help with this investigation. You even admitted it yourself. You have a conflict of interest."

"But I can _help_ ," I insist. "I was there. I know what I _saw_ , whether it was manipulated or not. That's worth something, particularly if I saw what someone—Hollow or otherwise—wanted me to see. And my theory—it's multipurpose. I've observed more than just hollows. I had to in order to understand that it was the _human_ personality attributing to Hollow behavior."

"So you can psychoanalyze?"

I hesitate. "I'd…not really? It's more like recognizing patterns. Or…reverse psychoanalysis? Reverse psychology, in a way? I think I read somewhere, something from the human world, about someone taking the processes of a psychologist and just reversing it. If you know someone's personality, you can reasonably infer how they'll react, right? Instead of predicting behavior from the personality, one predicts the personality from the behavior."

He nods, and it's like realization dawns on his face. "And once you understand the personality, you know how to deal with the individual, how to predict what they'll do, and so on."

"Yes."

"You said you've been working on this theory for thirty years?" Captain Hitsugaya asks suddenly from my left. I give him an affirmative answer, a little startled. I'd almost forgotten he and Captain Hirako were still here. I really am out of it. "Why haven't you spoken out about this before?"

Embarrassed, I shrug and shuffle my feet a little. "I've tried. No one's really ever listened to me. Tatsuyoru-san knew, and a few of my previous direct superiors, but otherwise…"

"Y'shoulda' been more vocal about it," Captain Hirako interjects. "Like I told ya' before, it's got weight."

Kyōraku looks at him sharply. "You know something?"

Captain Hirako taps the side of his head. "Yeah. Didn't wanna' mention it with everyone here, but _it_ ain't shut up since Kozaki-kun first told me about her theory. Checks out for the most part, and it explains anomalies that crop up."

"Is that so?" he hums, scratching at his jaw contemplatively. "I take it you and Hitsugaya-taicho have discussed the arrangement?"

Arrangement?

"Yes," Captain Hitsugaya crosses his arms stoically. "I stand by my request."

"And I don't have any problems acommodatin', though I can't help but feel like I'm gettin' the losin' end of the deal." My captain is grinning, so I don't think he's all that put-out. He looks a bit like a proud parent. Still, I'm curious as to what they're talking about. They can't mean…? No. There's no way they're discussing what I think they're discussing.

"What's this about?" I ask, looking between the three captains like they've each grown another head.

Hitsugaya sighs. "Pending the outcome of this meeting, I asked that you be transferred to my division as my Fourth Seat officer."

Fourth Seat?! "What?" I'm incredulous, eyes bugging out of my head and knees weak again because _what?_ I'm not…I _hate_ ranking officers! How can I count myself as a ranking officer when I don't trust them as far as I can throw them?! I practically live by the phrase _power corrupts_ —look at Aizen!

"Don't look so shocked! Y'more than proved yourself with everythin'. The mission may not have gone to plan, but without your instincts, it coulda' been a lot worse." I just…I'm not… It's like my brain's stopped functioning. The whistling in my mind is amused now, however that works. I do _not_ need Fūmittsu's teasing on top of things.

"And you make a good argument," adds the Captain-Commander. "Your perspective could be extraordinarily useful when applied to this case. Captain Hirako gave us a brief description of your theory, and how you elaborated was going to decide whether I would leave this issue of Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru's whereabouts to Division 9 or give it to a specialized team. As I've decided a specialized team would be better suited, I am approving your transfer and promotion to Division 10 as Fourth Seat and assigning the responsibility of investigating the attack to yourself, Third Seat Akiyama, Lieutenants Hisagi, Hinamori, and Matsumoto, and Captains Hitsugaya and Hirako."

Wait, this was a _test_?!

"Doesn't that seem like a bit much, no offense?" I stutter.

"Not at all," he retorts. "You said the Hollows seemed to be targeting your squad, and I think you're right. There's nothing saying otherwise, and with Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru unaccounted for, I'm not willing to leave anything to chance."

Well, that's…okay…that makes sense…I think. Maybe. "I-I don't know what to say. Thank you."

Captain Hirako laughs loudly, and an arm is launched over my shoulders. I squeak in surprise. "Y'deserve it, kid! We oughtta' get all your stuff packed!" He suddenly stops, comically contemplative. "Er…again."

"C-captain, could you p-please let go," I whine, trying to push him away as courteously as I can, but good grief, it's like he's got me trapped under steel. "And it-it's no big deal! It's my fault I had to in the first place!" I give another push to no avail. Why does he enjoy doing this?!

I don't realize the damage until it's already been done and Kyōraku asks, "Again?"

My captain—or, previous captain, I guess—answers before I can get a word in. "Kozaki-kun had a panic attack and her reiatsu got a little crazy. Ain't that big a deal."

"I _didn't_ panic!" I _so_ panicked. I just don't want to admit it to the captain whose division _I've just been transferred to_. "And I apologized!" I huff.

His arm moves from my shoulders—thank god—but moves so his hand is ruffling my hair. I'm not sure if it's an improvement, honestly. "You did! The damages are still coming out of your final paycheck, though!" My eye twitches. Dammit!

Captain Hitsugaya coughs. "I take it you're accepting the offer?"

Blinking, I sigh, "I guess so. Yes. I accept."

He smirks for a second, or I think—it was pretty quick. More of an acknowledgement than anything. Hitsugaya really is _not_ a conversationalist. "Then it's settled. I know you are still on medical leave—how much longer do you have?" The Captain-Commander asks, and he's is sporting a small grin of his own, so I can't help but suspect that I was going to receive the transfer regardless.

"Two and a half weeks, sir."

"Take the rest of your leave and get yourself acclimated. Then I expect preparations for the investigation team to begin, and I would like everyone to be ready for the first briefing within the following month."

Hitsugaya nods. "Understood."

"Dismissed," Kyōraku full-on smiles, standing up now. "And congratulations, Kozaki-chan. Good luck."

* * *

 **I spend the next two and a half** weeks alternating between disbelief and sheer panic. It didn't sink in at the meeting, really, the significance of everything. Not until after did I realize that I am now a seated officer. I am now the very thing I hate. The very thing I distrust above all else.

I'd be lying through my teeth if I said that running away to the World of the Living wasn't sounding pretty good right about now.

Not knowing what to think about it all, I spend most of those weeks meditating, trying to talk to my zanpakuto who is still being stubborn and quiet. Captain Hirako seems to be avoiding me since the meeting. Or giving me space—it's hard to tell with him. Either way, I'm grateful. I don't want to deal with anyone right now, let alone a captain. The fact that I don't completely mistrust him after everything notwithstanding.

Every night, though, without fail I spend a few moments staring at that damn music player. Contemplating. Wondering if I should listen to it, or more specifically, the file under my name. I can't bring myself to. Talking to Haruka made me realize the frightening truth that Tatsuyoru knew and believed far more than he let on. A part of me wants to believe that he knew how that night was going to end way before it even happened. Impossible, I know. But that little, nagging conspiracy theorist living in the back of my mind wants to think that whatever file he saved with my name could tell me something I'm not ready to hear. I already figure I'm going to get plenty of that on this investigative team.

The rest of my down time is spent trying to find all of my scattered notes, make sense of them again, and then rewrite them until I have something resembling a proper thesis. Human term, but it's apt. Seventy pages detailing observations and theory, suggestions, things I'm still in the process of trying to research when I have time—it's a lot. I have it all compiled, organized, and reorganized by the time I move out of Division 5 barracks and into Division 10.

My guide my first day is a grumpy man by the name of Akiyama Koji, the division's Third Seat and my immediate superior. At first I think I'm going to have another Tatsuyoru issue to deal with, sans the subterfuge, but I'm quick to note that he's like that with everyone except for Captain Hitsugaya and Lieutenant Matsumoto. So it's an underling thing, I think. Everything about his appearance is purple—purple hair, purple eyes, purple zanpakuto. His shihakusho adds to this distinction, as a large portion of the right side of his kosode, from the collar to the obi and the entire sleeve, is gone and replaced with winding bandages. From the way he moves, it's obvious it's for style and not from an injury. I don't really exchange more than a few words with him, and most of them are mine before I really just stop trying.

I get a day by myself to settle in and organize my notes before I'm briefing Captain Hitsugaya more in-depth about my theory. He's polite and quiet and listens to what I have to say. He disagrees with me on some things, points out some of his own experiences, broader than mine, places where his knowledge adds or contradicts, but he doesn't brush me off. It's weird at first, having someone listen to me, but I'm grateful for it as the week dredges on, and Lieutenant Matsumoto—or Rangiku as she vehemently _insists_ on being called—is joining us by the end. The stark difference in personality between the two is startling. Where the captain is serious and icy, she is bubbly and lazy. That being said, there's plenty of times in this week that I catch him fighting a grin at something she says or catch her actually focusing on her work for a few seconds longer than usual before sneaking off to go drinking with Lieutenant Madarame.

For all I notice, though, I give even less. I think Captain Hitsugaya, at least, realizes this. He doesn't say anything or pry—I like to think he's smart enough to figure out why I'm hesitant, but either way, I'm content to let sleeping dogs lie. This whole situation has me feeling like I'm walking on thin ice, cracking and unstable and I'm going to fall through any minute if I don't quickly get my bearings. A hatchling thrown out of the nest perhaps a smidge too soon. Simply, I don't _want_ these people to know me. Not yet, at the very least.

My mind flashes to my nightmares again. Who am I, anyway? Kozaki Yoshiko is a construct of Kozaki Kiyoshi, isn't she? At least, on some level. The thought hits me unawares on the third night of my second week at Division 10, and I pull the covers of my futon further up over my head, trying to burrow myself as far away from the intrusive memories as I possibly can. The empty tea cup next to my pillow almost mocks me, each little chip in its surface a jab at the fact that I need to be medicated in order to not relive the past. It's annoying.

Speaking of the tea… I mentally tally how long it typically takes to start working, and decide that spending a half hour tossing and turning won't serve me any good. Hauling myself to my feet, I fix my sleeping yukata so it's reasonably presentable and proceed to shuffle my way to one of the _engawa_. It's something I always used to do as a child, though back then I didn't have an _engawa_. Just a gap in tattered curtains, then. But something about the night sky has always calmed me, and after these past few weeks…

Settling myself on the walkway, feet dangling off the edge, I fold my hands in my lap and lean against one of the supports. I am lucky in that my quarters are one of the officer's quarters, and thus has the luxury of facing one of the gardens within the barracks. A plum tree is situated in front of me, bathed in the sliver of moonlight from the crescent moon that hangs in the sky. I gaze at it absently, remembering things I don't want to.

The sky is different in Seireitei than it is in Rukongai. It's something I notice with detachment, not for the first time. I know logically that there's really no tangible change in the sky between the two, but in Rukongai there was a sense of taunting. Of being trapped and the sky only reminding me of the freedom I thought then I could never have. Kiyoshi…I don't know why I still refer to that man as my brother. Obligation, perhaps? The innocent part of me, the child that still lingers from what feels like eons ago recognizes the gratitude—he fed and sheltered me when I was a starving street rat he didn't have to bother with. But the rest of me, the logical part of my brain snaps back harshly that I was just a few years shy from being another target to him. I was almost killed and tossed away like trash, but I became a tool instead. It ironically saved my life.

I blink down to my hands in my lap, clenched into fists now. Saved my life, but how many had it doomed in the process?

"Oi," a gruff mutter to my right startles me. I'm not expecting another person to be out this late, but as I turn my head in shock, it appears that I'm not as alone in the courtyard as I originally thought. Akiyama is standing on the _engawa_ , arms crossed across his chest and an annoyed yet also bored scowl I think may be permanent pulling at his face. "You're in the way."

It takes a few seconds for my brain to stop blanking. "Uh…s-sorry, Akiyama-san—"

"Tch!" he scoffs, interrupting me. "Whatever. It's late. The fuck you doing out here?"

Another thing about the Third Seat—he's rather…crass. Not that there's anything wrong with that, per se, but I don't think he is very familiar with the word " _professionalism_ ". "Am I not allowed?" The slightest challenge, and I can tell he recognizes it. His purple eyes flash, and a hand raises in aggravation to rustle his hair. The same shade as his eyes, it falls messily to his jaw in something perhaps attempting to be waves, but not quite having the length to do so correctly.

"You're _allowed_. I just dunno' what the fuck you're playing at."

"Pardon?" I gape.

Akiyama just glares at me, a look filled with so much venom that I can't really understand it. He's a lazy, gruff, casual person, even with Captain Hitsugaya and Lieutenant Matsumoto, and in the few days I've had to work around him, he's never seemed the type to be aggressive like this. I've noticed the distasteful looks he spares for me, but nothing this hateful. "You came from Division 5, so don't play dumb. Y'know what."

I slowly stand, keeping a hand on one of the support beams for…well, support. I feel like I need it. "I-if you have a problem with me, then please say so plainly. I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Problem?" he snarls, taking a step forward that I'm not prepared for. I get uncomfortable flashes of Tatsuyoru doing the same on the roof of a skyscraper in the rain. It causes me to jump and flinch from the grab to my kosode that never comes. "Course I got a problem with you, Kozaki. You _failed_ a mission, let your teammates die, and then got fucking _promoted_ for it." He doesn't shout, but I almost wish he would. The way he hisses his words, full of a grudge I can't fathom, makes my skin crawl. Yelling would have been kinder, I think.

"I-I'm s-so-sorry, I—" stammering, I take a half step back.

Akiyama interrupts me swiftly with a sneer. "Who the fuck did you have to bribe, huh?"

I squeak, "No one! I didn't bribe anyone!" The disbelief and irrational fear is mixing quickly with anger. I get that I'm the outsider. I get it. But I'm getting sick of this whole not being trusted business. The Division 5 comment—I knew I'd be disadvantaged from the mission alone, but I ironically never considered the stigma of being from 5 as well. A huff escapes me. I'm so _tired_ of being persecuted for no godforsaken reason other than being from Aizen's division!

"Whatever. Didn't answer my question, what're you doing out here?"

The subject change makes my head spin. Or maybe that's just the double dose of tea I drank. "I…I needed to…I couldn't…"

He shifts on his feet. I'm too out of it to analyze the movement. "Well?"

Floundering, I eventually lose what little nerve being angry had given me and look down at the floorboards. Crickets chirp ironically from the garden. "I couldn't sleep. I couldn't just _sit_ there. I needed to…I don't know."

The man studies me for a moment. It's quick, but I feel bugs crawling on me from the discomfort. I don't know what he finds, but it causes him to tilt his head to the side and his eyes to go a smidge closer to compassionate. Huh. Not something I would have guessed him capable of.

"Nightmares?"

Struck, I wrap my arms around myself and hunch. _Somatic retraction_ , my mind identifies in a whisper that makes me realize I spend far too much time researching and picking out body language than I do actually talking to people. "S-something like th-that."

"Only people who don't have 'em are fucking academy newbies," he snorts. "It either is or isn't. Don't play games, Kozaki."

" _Don't call me that!_ " It takes me a fraction of a second too long to realize that the whimper came from me. My eyes widen, and I curl into myself even more than before.

If he's taken aback, Akiyama is very good at hiding it. "Don't call you what? Your fucking _name_?"

"N-no, I… I didn't mean…" A shuddering breath. "F-forget it. It's nothing, Akiyama-san."

I feel his eyes as he asks, "What the hell do you wanna be called, then? Yoshiko?" I stiffen.

" _No_."

His hands go up in exasperation. "Then _what_? The fuck is your problem?"

A whine builds in the back of my throat that I barely beat back, turning instead to look back on the garden and the plum tree and the moon. "Nothing. _Sir_." The last bit is tacked on as an afterthought, a hope that doing so will make him drop the subject. On top of the subject being too weighty and far too personal for a plethora of reasons, my tea is in full swing now. I can almost feel myself swaying on my feet.

"Fine, then," he rolls his eyes. "Be that way, _Haiirogan_." I whip my face to him at the nickname, blinking said grey eyes a few times before a bit of a disbelieving grin starts to twitch onto my face.

" _Haiirogan_?" I'm full on smirking now despite the pang of _memory_ being named by someone else brings, and I swear a bit of a flush creeps along Akiyama's face.

"Your eyes are grey, right? If you don't wanna be called by your damn name, then I gotta' call you _something_."

Silence ticks by. Neither of us are keen to meet the other's eyes, and I find myself perfectly content with that. Instead, I fix my gaze on the plum tree swaying in the breeze, Fūmittsu whistling in the back of my mind comfortingly, the crickets chirping. _Haiirogan_. _Grey-Eyes_. I… The last person to give me a name was Kiyoshi. And even then, _Kozaki_ and _Yoshiko_ were forced on me. I took them as I had nothing else at the time, but I had no choice in the matter. The names weren't just names, though, the person that I became because of themwas forced on me. My whole identity, at least at first, was something I had no control over. And to this day, it's something I resent. I prefer being referred to as the faceless " _Kozaki-san_ " only because at least that name is real, in a sense. Kozaki actually belonged to someone, it was just shared forcefully with me later on. Kiyoshi never intended for me to take a surname until it was necessary. I was only " _Yoshiko_ " to him, and I hate that name that he gave me because it is solely _his_ construct. I've been running from it for just over fifty years.

 _Haiirogan_ , though. I think…I may be able to learn to live with that. Maybe.

Finally, I push off of the support and move to begin my way back to my quarters. I eye Akiyama a bit warily—after his outburst and knowing that he does not like or trust me, I do not trust him in kind. But he has done… _something_. And it counts to enough of an extent. "Goodnight, Akiyama-san."

It breaks him out of whatever musings he fell into, and the purple-haired officer gives another one of his apparently customary scoffs. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Walking a few steps, I pause for a moment before turning to call at him over my shoulder.

"Also… _arigatō_." I allow myself another uncharacteristic smirk before tacking on, " _Komurasaki_."

I walk away back to my rooms and think that the step out of my comfort zone was well worth it to hear him sputtering behind me.

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_ Haiirogan (灰色眼): "Grey Eyes"-if I screwed up on the kanji reading for this, someone please tell me. Readings always trip me up.

Komurasaki (濃紫): "Dark Purple"-same as with Haiirogan; if I screwed up the readings, please inform and correct me.

Somatic Retraction: an instinctive, defensive posture, a subconsious reaction to stress or stimuli percieved as threatening. In extreme cases, it is known as the fetal position. You know how when someone's disappointed or "bummed out", they'll walk with their limbs loose and head down? That's also a form of somatic retraction. It's defensive, but it's defensive in a retreating type of way, if that makes sense.

Thanks! R&R!

~Grover


	7. Faith

_**Curtain Call  
By:**_ R. V. Grover

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Bleach, nor do I own the song I'm quoting (which is an amazing, beautiful song that helped inspire this chapter and the following one, so I highly HIGHLY recommend going and checking it out). All rights go to their respective peoples. I just own my OCs.

 _ **Quick Author's Note**_ _ **:**_ Hello, all! Yeah, it's still me - I just changed my username.

Anyway, I apologize for the bit of a wait. Before we get started, I'd like to let y'all know that I went back and edited chapter 6 (again). The end is about all I changed, but I would still recommend everyone go back and give that a read so you're not confused in the coming chapters about a nickname that crops up.

This chapter is admittedly a bit of a filler. There was a time skip here, and I needed to fill in some gaps. I was going to keep going with what I had planned, but the length was getting to be a bit much and everything else I planned to happen could be an entire chapter on its own, so I decided to split it.

Also, please let me know what you think of Eiji. I just spent the day with my seven year-old niece, so his personality was heavily inspired by her. Hunter is a machine of pure energy that DOES NOT STOP. I don't understand how she does it.

Well, without further ado, ENJOY!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 7:**_ Faith

* * *

" _The reflection of a lie will keep me waiting  
with love gone for so long._  
 _And this day's ending is the proof of time killing all the faith I know,  
knowing that faith is all I hold._"

-Trading Yesterday, "Shattered"

* * *

" **Hisagi-fukutaichō! Wait a moment!"** I cry, speeding up my pace as I clamber down one of the hallways of Division 9, a stack of papers clutched to my chest that's overflowing even as I'm chasing after the lieutenant in search of yet another stack to add to my ever-growing pile. The Shinigami in question pauses as he walks with his co-lieutenant, both individuals turning to look at me as I push past a few other Division 9 members to get to them at the other end of the hall. I'm a bit out of breath by the time I do, though I plaster a small smile on my face to try and take the edge off of my surely disheveled appearance. The green-haired lieutenant gives me a smile and a wave, but murmurs something to Hisagi before leaving the two of us to our conversation. I caught some of it—she probably assumed correctly my reason for seeking out the tattooed man and figured space was necessary considering the nature such things tended to take in the past. Confidential matters and all.

"Kozaki-san," he greets with a polite incline of the head. I've found in these five years of working with him that I would probably get along well with Hisagi Shūhei were he not a lieutenant. His rank alone is enough to make me flinch away from talking to him any more than necessary. "I assume you're here for the reports?"

I give a cheery nod. I've gotten quite good in the past years at hiding my discomfort around ranking officers, what with having to work so closely with them. "Yep! Hitsugaya-taichō sent me over for them."

"The ones from the ground team, correct?" he asks, and I nod again in clarification. "I've got them in my office, but I can't promise you're going to like what they have to say."

My smile turns sad. "They didn't find anything new?"

He sighs, something in the draw of his face making the scars over his right eye more dramatic. "No, I'm afraid not. We thought combing through the sector again would give us something, but it's been five years. I don't know what exactly we were expecting to find in the first place."

"A miracle, I suppose," I chortle bitterly, running a nervous hand through my hair and ignoring the snags through the brown strands my fingers encounter. "I think we're all just desperate at this point." We shuffle into the empty office he shares with Lieutenant Kumo and Captain Muguruma, the door sliding shut with a _click_! I don't view it as ominous only because I can read in the lines of his face that the other Shinigami has something to say that cannot be overheard by other ears. I may be wary around him, but I can read him rather easily.

"Desperate possibly for good reason. There's talk from Central 46 about disbanding the investigation team if nothing turns up soon. The Captain-Commander is fighting it as well as he can, but even he can't go against their rulings." Hisagi seems stricken under the stoicism he likes to adopt, and I'm sure my face mimics this quite soundly.

" _Disband_?!" I hiss. "They agreed to the formation of it in the first place! Why do that if they were just going to disband it anyway?"

"They haven't ruled on anything yet, so it's just conjecture at this point," he calmly tries to soothe, but the damage has been done as I feel the rock settling into the pit of my stomach. I grip the pages in my hands tighter, so tight my knuckles blanch and the edges dig into my skin with the threat of cutting.

We've been investigating Tatsuyoru's disappearance, quietly, for the last five years. Except we haven't found anything more than we already knew. To my chagrin, even my theory hasn't produced anything of note. Captain-Commander Kyōraku has been understanding, even as everyone on this special team he formed has become steadily more frustrated with the lack of progress, but no one has become as frustrated, I think, as myself. Although everyone is becoming impatient for differing reasons and to differing extents, the general sense of annoyed helplessness is the same across the board.

I heave a sigh, slumping in defeat and accepting the stack of apparently useless reports the lieutenant patiently hands me. "You're right. I apologize for getting worked up, Lieutenant."

"It's okay," he gives me a small smile of reassurance. "We all deserve some answers as to what happened that night, you especially."

I notice the gesture doesn't reach his eyes, faked, and I'm sure mine sadly mirrors it as I tuck the reports in with all of the other worthless information on our barely-existent case I have clutched to my chest like the precious treasure I only wish they would be. He really has no idea, and I think he knows that. The platitude is empty on his end. Not for lack of trying, but still hollow. "Thank you, Hisagi-fukutaichō. I'll leave you to your work."

"Of course. Good luck, Kozaki-san." I flinch into my polite bow at the name. He doesn't notice.

"You as well."

I bustle quickly out of Division 9 with more paper than when I went in, but I'm again nowhere closer to solving the mystery that still blankets the night I almost died along with my team. It bothers me to no end. All I want are answers—how did Tatsuyoru survive, why were those Hollows acting the way that they were, why were we singled out, _what is going on here_? Hisagi's words ring in my head, and I have a sudden, paralyzing fear that I may never get the answers I seek.

The halls of Division 10, to my chagrin, have become familiar over the past five years, almost as familiar as those of Division 5 were before my transfer and promotion. I nod to a few of the Shinigami that I pass, recognizing them from here and there, and them recognizing me from my status as the seated officer who doesn't command a team. It was a shaky decision at first, one I was as unsure of as I was grateful when Captain Hitsugaya made it, but slowly it became accepted. The special investigation team that was formed by Captain-Commander Kyōraku was done so in secret, and as such our activities—and personal involvement—are not publicized for obvious reasons. It's not like my duties looking into Tatsuyoru's disappearance can be announced as the thing that keeps me from leading a squad of my own. Instead, the death of my previous team was used as an excuse, albeit a shaky one. It works, however, so I don't analyze it too much.

A few twists and turns has me sliding the door to Captain Hitsugaya's office open and walking in to a sight that initially used to strike me as very strange. It is, however, fairly commonplace anymore. Lieutenant Matsumoto is slung over the couch in a tangle of limbs, dead and deaf to the world and probably sleeping off her latest round of drinking that was an attempt to avoid the stacks of paperwork around the office. However, Rangiku isn't what first draws my attention. Instead, what I focus on is the sight of my white-haired captain listening intently to the little boy excitedly bouncing around in front of his desk. I have to grin a little, my sour mood and anxiety quickly abating when I spot Eiji's black hair and gangly limbs. That's only further spurred when I catch sight of Haruka's matching dark curls shaking her head at her hyperactive offspring. She's likely wondering for the millionth time in the past five years how in the world she and Tatsuyoru Kohaku managed to produce a tiny being filled with such boundless energy.

"Are you sure she's gonna' be back soon?" the little boy whines adorably up at the usually icy captain. While his stoic demeanor is still present, I can tell it is softened a little bit as he quirks a brow at Tatsuyoru's son.

His lips twitch, refraining from a smile as he has obviously felt my reiatsu long before I entered the room. "Yes. If you'd be patient for a few moments, I'm sure she'll show up far sooner than you think."

Eiji pouts. "But I wanna see her _now_!"

"Hmm, I don't know. You _do_ need to learn some patience. Maybe I ought to let you stew a bit," I tease lightly, my general conversational awkwardness lacking in the face of the small child. I meander up to my captain's desk to set the large stack of reports on a relatively uncluttered edge with a silent nod. He flicks his turquoise gaze to the papers and then back to my face, inclining his head in understanding at the brief, melancholy look I'm not quite able to repress. _They found nothing_ , I say wordlessly. _I'm sorry_ , he replies.

The five-year-old, however, is not so sensitive to the angst felt by the adults in the room and instead squeals in glee, flinging himself the few feet towards me. "Oba-chan!" He latches onto my hakama and attempts to climb his way up my person. I swoop down before he can do much more than tug at my shihakusho, scooping the giggling child into my arms and swiftly settling him on my hip. Eiji's eyes are purple like his father's, but they are warm and emotive like his mother's.

I tap him playfully on the nose. "Hold up there, spider monkey. What have you been told about climbing people?"

He's not dissuaded by my chiding, and giggles more before chorusing, "Not to."

" _Trees_ are for climbing, _people_ are for hugging," I add, and at the reminder, he tangles his little arms around my neck, squeezing tightly as he buries his face in my shoulder. I allow him his hug before planting a small kiss on the side of his head and patting his back to let him know it's time to get down. He complies wordlessly, happy to have gotten his attention, and resumes his jitteriness once his feet touch the ground again. I curiously raise my brows, as from the mused state of his usually impeccable yukata, he's obviously been fidgeting for a while.

"Someone's excited."

Haruka laughs from behind me, and I turn to give her a nod of greeting. "Yes, well, he woke me up this morning in a tizzy wanting to visit you two. I found I could not dissuade him. It seems you and Hitsugaya-san have quite soundly stolen my son from me." The teasing in her soft voice is plain to hear, and Eiji reacts accordingly. His amethyst eyes bug out of his head, mouth falling open in a perfect _o_ shape as his little legs propel him at his mother with a wail.

"No, Mama! You're my _Mama_!" Leaning against Captain Hitsugaya's desk, we both laugh lowly at the sight of the little boy clutching at his mother's forest green kimono, obviously fighting the urge to climb her as he is wont to do. My nickname for him is quite apt. If given the opportunity, Eiji will try to climb everything, a little spider monkey. It's adorable.

Haruka herself gives a chuckle, patting her son on the head fondly. "I know, dear. Now, did you not have something you wanted to ask your Oba-chan and Oji-san?"

Eyes going even wider, if that's possible, he gasps, "Oh! I forgot!" Spinning around to face myself and Hitsugaya, he's kept in place only by Haruka's hand lingering on the crown of his head. "Will you come to my birthday?"

I can't help the next chortle that bubbles from me. The fidgeting suddenly makes sense. "Birthday? That's still a whole month and a half away! Bit early for birthdays, little one."

"I am trying to plan it in advance," Haruka frets. "I need to work around everyone's availability. It is…difficult to do last minute. I learned my lesson well enough from last year." Ah, last year. I remember that fiasco fondly. Thankfully, Eiji was oblivious to all of the hiccoughs, or we partygoers would have had a very wail-y toddler on our hands.

"Please?" said little boy begs, and to my (internally squealing) dismay, he pulls that _look_. Wide, watery purple eyes, chubby cheeks, complete with a little pout. It crumbles my (pathetic, not seriously attempted) defenses rather soundly.

Pretending to adopt a thinking expression, I tap my chin a few times before sighing in exaggerated defeat with a flourished hand motion for the added theatrics. "How could I ever resist such a handsome face? I suppose I haven't a choice but to agree, do I? When is this birthday party of yours?"

"The…," his face does that adorable scrunch-y nose, in-thought thing as he tries to count something on his fingers. "Twenty…fifth?" He looks to his mother for confirmation, which she gives with a gentle, encouraging nod. Bless Tatsuyoru Haruka—I don't know why she deigned it a good idea to befriend me after my stalker-ish appearance on her doorstep after her husband's memorial service, or why she decided I would make a good godmother to her son, but I'm glad she did beyond words. To say the woman is a good soul would be an understatement.

She clarifies, "Yes. The weekend after his actual birthday. I think that is the only time everyone can arrange to be present." I know she speaks of a few members of the Gotei 13 who are family friends, as well as a couple who are distant relatives of hers and Eiji's. Shinigami can have schedules that are notoriously difficult to pin down at the same time.

The boy turns his attention to Captain Hitsugaya with the same puppy-dog expression he pulled on me. "Oji-san?" Like me, Hitsugaya humors him by pretending to think it over, but I quickly see something almost mischievous flash behind his eyes. The faint impish expression on my captain's face is not one I'm used to seeing, but I think I know why it's making an appearance.

"Captain, you're cruel," I mumble just loud enough for him to hear. It's not chiding, not that I would ever dare such with a captain regardless of if we share a godson. It's more amused. His lack of response is all the confirmation I need.

"I may be persuaded to agree, but only if you can wake Matsumoto," he says, about as gleeful as I've ever heard him. Innocently, Eiji quickly agrees and pounces on the sleeping lieutenant (how she managed to not wake at the commotion before, I'll never know) without any hesitation whatsoever. Haruka sidles up to the desk as the three of us watch her son startle the blonde awake in a very loud, very boisterous manner.

The woman murmurs, "Hitsugaya-san, Kozaki-chan, thank you again for agreeing to be his godparents. I feel better knowing that if something…something happens to me, that…well, he will be taken care of." I sigh only because every time she sees myself, Captain Hitsugaya, or both of us at the same time, she feels the need to thank us for agreeing to the offer she made five years ago. As with her motives for befriending me, I don't really know why she chose the Captain and myself, of all people, to be Eiji's godparents, another Western tradition favored by her family and one I myself find I don't mind overmuch. But she did.

It unfortunately means that I do have somewhat of a relationship with Captain Hitsugaya outside of strict professionalism, which is…trying, but I take the whole thing in small strides. As my zanpakuto is quick to remind me, Captain Hitsugaya is not Aizen. The betrayal of one superior does not dictate the actions of all superiors thereof. I'm still slow to trust ranking officers, if at all, but Fūmittsu gloats about making progress often enough that I almost find myself believing her.

"You don't have to thank me," I say.

Hitsugaya nods. "I agree with Kozaki. Thanks aren't necessary." She just smiles her small, gentle smile, eyes crinkling warmly at the corners.

"Thank you, still. You will be coming, then? I know it will mean the world to him."

"Of course." I laugh as Rangiku manages to groggily wrestle Eiji into a tickle fight, her mild hangover apparent but foregone in favor of playing with her errant alarm clock courtesy of our captain. "You know I wouldn't miss it."

"I shouldn't be busy, either," adds Hitsugaya.

We are silent for a few moments, watching the lieutenant wrangle the little boy before she looks up with wide blue eyes and whines, "Captain, Kozaki-chan, I was having a good dream! Who decided to sic the monkey on me?" My nickname for the hellion managed to catch on with Matsumoto, who thinks it as cute as I do.

My captain rolls his eyes. "Maybe if you spent less time sleeping and more time working, Eiji wouldn't have had to wake you."

"But Ran-chan, Oji-san promised to go to my birthday party if I woke you up!" Eiji snickers, completely unrepentant like the sneaky brat he sometimes is. In that regard, according to Haruka, he takes after his father.

Lieutenant Matsumoto exaggeratedly gasps in mock offense at the child clumsily situated in her lap. "I can't believe you not only didn't invite me, but you sold me out for a birthday party!"

"No, I sold you out for Oji-san!"

I snort in laughter as their banter continues, a little ritual almost between the two of them. Finally, Eiji appears to lose this particular battle of wits, as he turns to his mother with big eyes and rosy cheeks. "Mama, can we invite Ran-chan, too?"

"Of course! Matsumoto-fukutaichō is welcome to come as well."

Captain Hitsugaya gives a dry, sarcastic sigh as he takes some papers from his desk and stands to cross the room to drop them in front of Matsumoto on the coffee table. The child prodigy is not so much a child anymore, not that I'd really so much as been in his general vicinity before being transferred. He stands shy of a head taller than me, a result of something to do with his bankai, or so I'd heard. "A shame. That's time she could have spent actually getting some work done for a change." She in response slaps a hand over her ample chest in forced offense, face looking the definition of fake innocence.

"But Captain, I work very hard! It's not my fault all this paperwork is so boring!" she whines. Hitsugaya just rolls his eyes and fixes his lieutenant with an annoyed glare. I'm entirely unfazed by this as it's a relatively common sight, however Haruka and Eiji are lost to humor as it is not quite so familiar to them.

"Matsumoto," Captain Hitsugaya grumbles warningly, but there's really no venom to it.

She puffs her cheeks out, looking more like a petulant child than the one actually sitting on her lap. "Oh, _fine_. You don't give Kozaki-san this much grief." There's a glint to her eyes I don't like, one Haruka is prone to getting, and usually some form of teasing follows. If I had known what would ensue by agreeing to be godparent alongside my captain, I would have considered more carefully. The familiar, token thought passes with amusement because I know full well I never would have denied Haruka's request for anything.

"Kozaki actually does her work, _and_ yours and Akiyama's," our Captain grits in retaliation. He knows, too, what usually follows that look.

He's not wrong, though, I think. Akiyama is as bad at ignoring paperwork as the lieutenant. I don't understand why. There's a lot of it, but it's mostly just signing off on requests and mission reports. Bland stuff with not much going on, but not difficult.

Rangiku smirks like the cat that got into the cream, and…I squint. Is it just me, or does the captain actually look a little _panicked_? "Are you sure it's not because—"

Suddenly, Eiji, perhaps tired of being ignored, gasps with the most perfect timing I've ever seen. He fists Matsumoto's pink scarf in urgency, a set look on his face. "Ran-chan, don't! I want you to come to my party, but if I'm not allowed to come see Oba-chan or Oji-san if I don't finish my lessons, then…then you're not allowed to come to my party unless you finish your paperwor…paperw…" His brow furrows cutely as he flounders for pronunciation he's only ever heard bandied once or twice.

"Paperwork," I supply breathlessly as I try not to laugh openly at my superior.

Eiji nods with an adorable level of finality. "Paperwork! You can't come unless you finish that!"

"Tatsuyoru-san, I'm keeping him," Captain Hitsugaya says plainly to a laughing Haruka, clearly as amused as I am as he plucks Eiji off of his lieutenant's lap. He must be in a fairly good mood today, I think. He's rather playful compared to his typical seriousness. I suppose I'm not the only one whose mood improves in Eiji's presence.

Matsumoto, however, is gaping. "Ei-chan, how could you betray me like that! That's it, you've been spending too much time with your Oji-san! He's turning you boring!"

"Nuh-uh!" he says even as he cuddles into the captain's side, little body shaking with barely-restrained snickers. He's definitely feeding off of the mirth and attention, that's for sure. Bright amethyst eyes peek out at the world from the corners, his head buried into Hitsugaya's shoulder. The contrast of Eiji's black hair on the white haori is almost striking.

Haruka snickers. "I told you, Hitsugaya-san—you and Kozaki-chan are stealing away my son!"

"Don't point fingers at me, Haru-chan," I say wryly, my hands held in mock surrender as I use the nickname the woman herself kept asking me to until I finally relented. "I'm the one always trying to get him to _stop_ climbing me."

The captain chuckles. "If he can actually get Matsumoto to do her work, then you'll have something to worry about. I have enough trouble getting her do to what little she already does." Rangiku grumbles something about being _right here_ , but even so, she pulls the stack of documents towards her, glowering glumly, albeit halfheartedly, at Eiji. My lip twitches into a smirk because the child's innocent manipulations trap even the most unsuspecting victims.

"Hmm, I am afraid I cannot let you have him _quite_ yet," Haruka hums as her dark eyes glance quickly at the clock on the wall. "We have more stops to make before the day is through."

"Aww, but Mama!" Eiji whines, face puffing up into that expression of pleading that I, admittedly, have a far harder time saying no to than I should.

His mother, however, seems to have no such issue and fixes him with a stern look that somehow still manages to be gentle. " _Eiji_. We still have your cousins _and_ Hinamori-san to invite to your birthday party. We cannot do that if we are here all day."

"Can't _you_ go?"

"It is not _my_ party, little dove!" she exclaims, brow raising incredulously though I think she also expected this token reluctance from him. "It would be rude for anyone else but yourself to extend the invitations."

Eiji whines even as he gives Captain Hitsugaya one last hug before the Shinigami sets him down. "Okay…" Once on the floor, Rangiku is the first to receive a lackluster hug goodbye. It doesn't stop her from enveloping the boy in one of her signature bear grabs, but it only gets a slight laugh from him where it usually sends him into another round of hysterics. Finally, he shuffles to me and wraps his arms around my hips.

My heart whimpers when he looks up at me with that teary, disappointed face. I tell myself to just hold it together as I return his weak hug with a stronger one of my own, and I _almost_ make it, until…

"I love you, Oba-chan."

… _my heart fucking shatters_.

Blinking back a few sentimental tears of my own, I give up all pretenses and crouch down to his level, all but crushing my godson to me and burrowing my face in his hair. Why this child can play me like a fiddle, I'll never understand. "I love you, too, spider monkey. Tell you what—you go help your Mama with the rest of your errands and promise to be _extra_ good, and we can go get ice cream this weekend. How's that sound?"

If someone would have told me six years ago that I would be a Fourth Seat, crouching in Captain Hitsugaya's office hugging our shared godson, the child of my missing former commanding officer and his wife who somehow became one of my best friends, and promising to take this little boy whom I so fiercely adore to get ice cream over the weekend, I would have smacked them upside the head with Fūmittsu and deemed them insane. Yet, here I am.

As if some magic word was spoken—which, indeed, "ice cream" may well be such—shining excitement begins to slowly overtake the disappointment in Eiji's eyes. "Really? You promise?"

I tap his nose. "Promise."

"Yay!" he giggles, tightening his grip on me for a final fraction of a second and zipping off towards Haruka. "Mama! Did you hear that? Oba-chan is gonna take me to get ice cream!"

"Yes, I heard, but we need to finish our errands first." She sets a hand on his shoulder before looking up at me as I stand again. "Now, tell everyone goodbye."

Eiji's grin is earsplitting, and his waving is energetic with expectation. I ought to promise this boy ice cream more often. "Bye Oba-chan, Oji-san, Ran-chan!"

A chorus of reciprocation follows the two out the door, and as soon as it slides shut behind them, I slump into myself. I love Eiji to death, but his energy is exhausting to simply be around. Lieutenant Matsumoto makes a gesture of agreement as she returns to her neglected, Eiji-mandated paperwork, and Captain Hitsugaya resituates himself behind his desk.

"I apologize if I inadvertently kept him waiting for too long," I say quietly. Matsumoto makes a poor attempt at looking preoccupied with her work, but I and Hitsugaya know that she's listening to our conversation. She has a bad habit of that.

We both ignore her with practiced ease. "It's fine, Kozaki. I asked you to retrieve the reports from Hisagi-fukutaichō. Am I safe in assuming that nothing of note came from Division 9's investigation?" My sigh probably tells him all he needs to know, and I steady myself inconspicuously against the desk.

"No, they found nothing. The scans from Division 12 and the supplemental reports from Division 5 all turned up empty, as well."

Hitsugaya rests his chin on his steepled fingers, whatever softness Eiji's visit had instilled in his eyes leaking away at the weighty discussion upon which we are encroaching. "I see. How many reports are we still waiting for?"

He knows the answer, but I humor him anyway with a clenched jaw. "None, sir." A breath escapes him in a hiss as his hands move to scrub across his temples.

" _Dammit_."

I quite agree.

"I…," starting, my eyes flash with confliction. I shuffle nervously on my feet as I try to decide whether to voice the thought lingering on the back of my tongue. I'm fairly certain Hisagi was not supposed to know the information he divulged to me earlier, and even if he was, I doubt it was supposed to be spread. "I'm beginning to worry. I've heard there's… _talk_. From Central 46, that they're going to disband us if we don't make progress, and I—" Shrugging, I swallow hard to try and clear the lump rising in my throat. The sound of Rangiku's pen scribbling on paper ceases as she at my words gives up all pretenses of looking busy.

My captain frowns. "Muguruma must have told Hisagi. It's just talk right now. A few of the judges are becoming vocal, but beyond that there's just grumbling. There's a captain's meeting scheduled in a week, though I wouldn't expect them to have any deliberation before then. Having one _at_ the meeting would be a stretch."

"I-I…y-yes, I know, it's just…," I frown, deflating some more as I fiddle with my sleeves. "I suppose all the secrecy behind their proceedings just never bothered me so much before."

He shrugs, nudging a few papers towards himself to scan through. "It's just their way. Don't worry so much, Kozaki." The words are hollow enough for me to be able to tell he doesn't buy them any more than I do, but I on some level can appreciate the effort.

Rangiku chimes, "Yeah, Kozaki-chan, It'll turn out fine! All those stuffy old guys can be reasonable when they want to be." Matsumoto learned rather quickly upon my first week in the division of my hatred for my given name. Worse, she'd tried to call me " _Yoshi-chan_ ". It took me almost having a nervous breakdown right in front of her for her to stick to using my surname, a feat many mired in mystery due to my and her reluctance to divulge the real reason behind it.

Smiling weakly at my lieutenant, I take a few steps back before giving my customary polite bow of farewell. "I-I'm sure you're both right. Only…do you ever get the feeling that something's about to go horribly wrong?"

They don't need to give me a verbal answer.

Their faces as I turn and walk out of the office tell me all I need to know, and the answer is a resounding, terrifying, unspoken _yes_.

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_

 _Oba-chan:_ Aunt

 _Oji-san:_ Uncle

Well. There we have it. I think I managed to say everything of import in the beginning note. I also hope you all liked the interactions between Eiji and everyone else - I was trying for something lighthearted. I myself actually am not fond of children, so capturing that was a bit difficult. I hope I did it justice.

R&R!

~Grover


	8. So Long and Goodnight

_**Curtain Call  
**_ _ **By:**_ SneakAttack29

* * *

 _ **Quick Author's Note:**_ Yeah, I changed my username again. I do that.

OMG I have time to write. What is this trickery? I'm probably going to turn around and find that I have like twelve assignments that I forgot about. My luck, anyway.

It's been busy. I have no other excuses for this taking so long. But, while it's here, ENJOY!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 8**_ : So Long and Goodnight

* * *

" _What's the worst that I could say?  
Things are better if I stay.  
So long and goodnight._"

-My Chemical Romance, " _Helena (So Long & Goodnight)_"

* * *

 **I'm in my office** when Akiyama Koji, in all his unrepentant, gruff, purple glory, comes barging into the room a week later with news of the meeting this evening.

Scribbling away at a stack of paperwork I've been neglecting, I hum along to some American song from Tatsuyoru's MP3 player, one with a good beat and emotional lyrics that I can never remember the name of. The headphones are stuffed into my ears, and the little piece of green plastic is clipped to the inside of my sleeve, out of sight and mind. I've come to find the device quite efficient at drowning out the ambient noise in the building, and it helps my productivity. Well, it does so long as I keep far, _far_ away from the file under " _Yoshiko_ ". Regardless, I find Tatsuyoru's eclectic music tastes have grown on me considerably in the past five years.

My office is one of the few things about being a seated officer that I cannot claim to dislike. Below Fifth Seat, officers share workspace, but as a Fourth Seat, I have the luxury of private quarters _and_ a private office. Personal space has always been a treat for me, considering the one-room shack in Rukongai I grew up in, then Shino Academy, then Division 5's shared barracks. Up until the incident, I'd never been able to claim private quarters, let alone an entire room as my own workspace to do with what I please. It's liberating, and I fear the past five years may have spoiled me in regards to expectations of solitude. It makes me wary of what else I've become accustomed to, and the answer is something I try not to dwell on too much.

I will _not_ be like Aizen. I will _not_ be like Tatsuyoru.

Still, while I have full sanction to decorate my office as I see fit, the flightiness in me has made it so that my personal touches are very minimalist. The red sofa, smaller than the one in the captain's office, came with the space, and I've never had reason to remove it. An ink painting of a mountain valley hangs on the wall next to it, while the door to the room is across from the couch. My desk, a dark wood, is situated to the right, facing the painting, while a window is at my back. A small table of matching wood sits in front of the sofa, and a bookshelf on the wall directly to the left of the window, both pieces of furniture having also been in here before my occupation.

Save my paperwork aligned in specific, neat stacks and my writing utensils neatly beside them, the only other thing on my desk is a picture from Eiji's last birthday party. Eiji in the photo is asleep, snuggled up to Captain Hitsugaya as he attempts to hand the boy off to Haruka. I'm next to her, laughing as the stubborn little monkey refuses to release the handful of Hitsugaya's hair he'd managed to capture within the span of two minutes. Matsumoto had caught the picture, and I wasn't aware of it until a week later when I'd walked into my office one morning to find it framed with a note from my lieutenant claiming it had been too cute to waste. Hitsugaya got a copy, too, but he doesn't keep it at work, apparently. At least, I've never seen it. Haruka has hers framed on a shelf in her living room, so at least _she_ agrees with me and Matsumoto that it's _absolutely adorable_.

I barely glance up as the door roughly slides open, and Akiyama huffs and puffs his way unceremoniously into my office. His reiatsu is as annoyingly familiar to me as my captain's. A stack of barely-organized paper is crammed into his hands, and I'm torn between thinking his lazy ass was forced to deliver them by Captain Hitsugaya and thinking that he's using work as an excuse to torment me. Either is quite probable.

"Akiyama-san," I murmur as politely as I can force. My brush returns to gliding across paperwork as I visually disregard his presence in the smallest act of defiance I will allow myself towards a superior. Perhaps I've gotten bold in the last few years, or perhaps he just annoys me that much.

The purple-haired Shinigami sneers. " _Haiirogan_." I twitch, but it'd be lying to say that the nickname bothers me more than my actual name. He knows it just as well. Infuriating, lazy, _insufferable_ —

Slapping the papers down on my desk with far more force than I'd expect necessary, his arms cross petulantly ( _tightly_ , more importantly) across his chest almost as soon as he releases them. His hands are quickly stuffed into his elbows, fingers curled into fists. Standoffish. Furious. Defensive. I threaten him as much as I anger him, and I don't know why. He's _my_ superior, not the other way around. In hindsight, maybe that's why I take as many liberties when it comes to showing my distaste for Akiyama—I know that he's wary of me. It's probably not a good thing, I think as I eye him skeptically. But I'm hard-pressed to care anymore, at least in this instance.

The look I send him is decidedly unimpressed as my inkwell teeters dangerously in threat of spilling. "Is there something you need, or is this errand all?"

"No. Meeting in an hour. Captain's office," he mumbles.

"A butterfly would have sufficed."

He shakes his head, "Captain told me to tell you directly. Ears." My lips purse as I nod in understanding. It's about the investigation, then. We don't use butterflies for that—it's too easy for someone to intercept them. Face-to-face contact is more secure and more reliable.

A sense of dread settles over me, though. I have a bad feeling about this, that it has something to do with the information Hisagi divulged to me about Central 46 becoming dissatisfied with our progress on finding Tatsuyoru. Captain Hitsugaya's empty reassurances hadn't done a thing to abate my fear that disbandment is becoming more and more of a possible reality. I know I'm not the only one to think so, too. Disbandment would mean giving up. _Giving up_ isn't something I do, isn't something I would take well, particularly in this case. Tatsuyoru haunts me, and he probably always will so long as this mystery remains.

I give Akiyama a considering look. "…Any idea what it's about?" My tone is cautious, wary of the answer, wary that it's one I won't like.

Instead, he shrugs flippantly, dropping himself onto the couch like he owns the place. Honestly, this _had_ been his office before he was promoted to Third Seat, so his comfort in the space is…understandable, I suppose. Irritating, but understandable. "No clue. Seemed important."

"You mean to say you've heard _nothing_?" I ask disbelievingly. The look I receive is irritation personified.

" _No_ ," he snarls. "I'd fuckin' tell you if I did, now quit _interrogatin'_ me, woman. Jeeze."

My brow quirks as I dip my brush back in the inkwell. "I'm hardly interrogatingyou… _sir_." It's bit out with plenty of venom, but I tack on what professional respect I can muster for this man just to keep up appearances. Regretfully. And with a bitter tongue.

His pointed silence is testament to how annoyed he is with me, and I take that as my cue to back off. I sigh quietly and return to scribbling at my paperwork in resignation to the ensuing lapse of anything but the sound of rustling and the breeze from outside my window. Akiyama seems just as content to do the same, another testament, I think, to say that I'm not the only one as worried about this meeting as first appears.

* * *

 **An hour later, the fall of dusk, finds the seven of us huddled in the captain's office**. We are a hodge-podge of Shinigami, to be sure. Captain Hitsugaya is seated at his desk—nothing out of the ordinary as this _is_ his office. Lieutenant Matsumoto is standing to his right, Lieutenant Hisagi next to her, then Lieutenant Hinamori. Captain Hirako is between myself and his lieutenant, having insisted on standing next to me the moment he saw me. His too-large grin seems to grow wider as he proceeds to succumb to that horrible habit of his that dictates he rustle my hair every time he lays eyes on me. Akiyama is to my right and to the left of Captain Hitsugaya.

I glance nervously around the circle we make, listening to the ominous ticking of the clock on the other side of the room, the only noise through the silent shuffling. Hitsugaya's fingers are laced together and pressed in front of his mouth, elbows on the desk, turquoise eyes vacantly staring at the wooden edges in front of him. His face is steeled, his posture frozen in a perfect rendition of his element. But I see things beyond what he is presenting. I notice the blanching of his knuckles as he clenches his hands, I can see the tenseness slanting his brows, the frown tugging at his lips just visible from my vantage. He's thinking, contemplative. He is so, _so_ angry. I'd be lying to say it doesn't frighten me.

More than that, though—there's something he doesn't want to say. He is not just angry or thinking, he is guarded. He is holding something back in the slump of his usually squared shoulders. And that, I believe, is what scares me the most.

After what feels like an eternity accompanied by plenty of conspiratorial nudging from Captain Hirako (much to my chagrin), Captain Hitsugaya's eyes slide closed. I see more than hear the slow, deep breath he has to draw in preparation, and I open my mouth to speak before my brain catches up with me. "Th-they've disbanded us, h-haven't they?"

Everyone freezes, except, ironically enough, the ice-wielder. Turquoise snaps open to bore into my grey, and they are grim turquoise, indeed. However, the voice that speaks is not my captain like I was expecting. Yet someone else, it seems, has beaten him to the point.

"Kozaki-chan," Matsumoto whispers, trying to be reassuring but faltering in her efforts. "You—"

"They did." At Hitsugaya's words, Captain Hirako has ceased trying to jab his elbow into my ribs for the fifteenth time in fifteen seconds, suddenly becoming serious at what we hear. Except for the smile—the stupid grin is omnipresent, I think. Because of course it is.

It's not possible for any of us to go any stiller than we already are, but I think we somehow manage.

I lower my head and use my hair as a short curtain. Where I stay silent, the Third Seat beside me does not. "They fuckin' _what_?!" Murmuring erupts, deafening despite our small numbers. Or maybe that's just the circumstances.

My captain's sigh cuts effectively through the clamor despite being quiet itself. His hands drop to rest in front of him, though still clenched, and the fraction droop in his shoulders deepens another fraction more. "They've disbanded us, Akiyama. We've produced no leads of value, so the apprehension of former Fifth Seat Tatsuyoru Kohaku has been turned over to Division 2 and the Onmitsukidō."

" _At least we_ got _fuckin' leads!_ " the Third Seat roars, but he quiets quickly after that. I can only assume Captain Hitsugaya gave him a _look_. I don't know for sure. My head is still bowed, and beneath the barricade of shoulder-length hair, my eyes are squeezed shut. Hands clenching my wrists which hang in front of me, the discussions emerging around me begin to sound more and more like murmurs.

I don't know why this is hitting me so hard. Well, I do, but the second Akiyama showed up in my office and told me that there was a meeting, I knew. I _knew_ we were done. I _knew_ we were disbanded. Hell, I probably knew the minute Hisagi mentioned the whispers. But to actually _hear_ it, to have it confirmed…

I keep hearing the silence, seeing the claws, the shadows, the blood. I see my superior laying dead and mangled on the ground, and then I see his zanpakuto resting in my shaking, bandaged hands, very much _impossibly_ intact.

Tatsuyoru is more than just a missing person, or a traitor, or someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's a _witness_. He's the start to the answers I've been yearning after for five years. He's the start to figuring out _who orchestrated that damned attack_. I'll be damned if I believe that it was random. It wasn't. It was about as _random_ as when Ki—

" _Haiirogan!_ " I'm suddenly aware of a snapping motion in front of my face, and I jerk with the realization that I had been shaking, trapped in between anger and fear or something of the like. The muttering ceased at some point, and I find myself the subject of several concerned stares. Captain Hirako's hand rests on my shoulder, but it was Akiyama's nickname and his royal purple eyes harshly boring into mine that actually jarred me back to reality.

I let out a very shaky breath, pushing my hands off from where I'd ended up leaning them on Captain Hitsugaya's desk. One of those hands swipes down across my face, and the mask is affixed as if it never cracked. "Sorry. It's…it's n-not unexpected, just a sh-shock to actually hear it." I don't look at Akiyama. I don't look at Captain Hitsugaya. I don't look at _anyone_. The pity isn't something I can bear to see at the moment. I hate pity.

No one comments. It's a blessing, I suppose. "We've been ordered to turn in any and all reports, information, and evidence we've gathered so far. We have until the end of the day tomorrow before the Onmitsukidō will arrive to collect it. And I mean _everything_ of relevance. If it can even be slightly connected to this case, it needs to be handed over. They're being quite thorough, it seems."

I freeze for barely a moment before forcing myself to relax, praying to every god I don't believe in that my reaction remains unnoticed. It isn't targeted at me—what Captain Hitsugaya said is a general statement. But it does not stop my mind from zipping immediately to the MP3 player tucked away quite neatly in my desk drawer. It's _suspicious_. There's more to it than meets the eye. I just haven't figured out what it is yet.

And I refuse to give it up. My own pride and what Haruka said be damned, that device belongs to Eiji. It was entrusted to me to take care of. And I do _not_ trust the Onmitsukidō.

Finally looking up from the desktop in front of me, I give my captain a nod of acknowledgement. I don't know if I just have good timing or if he for some reason had been looking deliberately in my direction, but I find his turquoise eyes as soon as I glance his way. No pity is reflected back to me as he nods in response. A silent question, however, does emerge.

 _Are you okay?_

I blink. My jaw clenches for a fraction of a second. My ever-so-slight incline of the head comes out shaky. _Maybe. I will be._

His eyes narrow. _For now?_

Can I hold it together for the remainder of the meeting? I think, I analyze. My mask is in place. Cracked, but functional.

 _…Yes._

He doesn't give anything else. He doesn't have to, and he immediately returns to the conversation milling within the room.

The whole thing takes only a beat of a moment to pass. I haven't the slightest clue when or how I came to be able to read Captain Hitsugaya so well, nor when he became able to do the same. I'm content to just roll with it—it's an inconsequential matter at the moment.

Everything else passes in a bit of a blur. I'm engrossed in my thoughts, automatically giving the appropriate responses when necessary but otherwise remaining quiet. Eventually, we adjourn. I briefly catch Captain Hirako mutter something unintelligible to Hitsugaya as I turn towards the door. My old captain is quick to pass me in my sluggish pace. He claps me on the shoulder gently, grin large and attempting to be reassuring before he and Lieutenant Hinamori edge ahead of me to the door.

I'm at the threshold when Captain Hitsugaya speaks, breaking me from the stupor of contemplation. "Kozaki-san, if you'd wait a moment." I barely manage not to jump as I turn to face him. His hands are folded beneath his chin, face considering. The office is empty, I realize belatedly, Lieutenant Matsumoto having taken the outflux of people as an opportunity to escape the paperwork piling up on her desk. It leaves only myself and the ice wielder. I try not to be nervous as I slide the door shut again and walk to stand before the desk again.

"Sir?"

"Sit." He waves a hand to one of the chairs next to me. Bemused, I do so. "There's something else I believe you should be made aware of. As you're the primary witness to the case, it's likely the Onmitsukidō will want to interview you themselves." My cringe isn't able to be hidden. Neither is what Captain Hitsugaya is really saying.

 _You'll have to relive it all over again_.

Damn it all.

"I…," I say, trembling a little despite my best efforts. "That's…to be expected. Th-thank you for the warning."

His head inclines in recognition, but silence otherwise falls. I'm unsure what to do, and Captain Hitsugaya keeps his gaze on me. There's something behind his eyes with intent, and the way he's holding himself proposes he's more to say.

I'm not disappointed a moment later when he does speak.

I'm not disappointed; but my heart drops to my stomach nevertheless.

"They're going to reconduct _all_ of the interviews, not just yours." Finally, the stoicism breaks. I watch my captain sigh heavily and drag his hands over his face, exhaustion now clearly apparent. I've never seen him break that mask before. Seeing it now… "I'm sorry, but they're going to be taking Haruka-san into custody tomorrow afternoon for questioning."

All breath leaves me in a second. "No…that's not even a day! Can't they just…the poor woman's been through—"

"Kozaki-san," Captain Hitsugaya says softly. His voice isn't forceful, but it still cuts through anything I was going to say like butter and causes me to quiet. My face, however, remains equal parts confused and shocked. "They're also going to be taking Eiji." My face blanches, then slowly flushes in anger. In fear.

" _What_?" Something in my chest wrenches painfully. "NO! They ca—Captain, he is a _child!_ He's never even _met_ Tatsuyoru-san—what are they hoping to gain from putting a _four-year-old_ through an interrogation?!"

He's grim, though his face shows as much anger as I'm feeling. Despite being stoic, Eiji is most definitely a soft spot for him. I can't blame my captain—the child is for me as well. "They won't keep him longer than a day, I'm assuming. It's likely a tactic to ensure that there hasn't been any communication on Haruka-san's end. A child would not fully understand the situation and would be more likely to let something slip."

I snort. "Not understand? Bull. They've never met Eiji." Hitsugaya _does_ crack a grin at this. "This is still…infuriating. I understand Haruka, to an extent. But Eiji? That's just _beyond_ …" I end with an exasperated huff, unable to find the proper words for the point I'm trying to make.

Hitsugaya seems to understand anyway. He levels me with a sympathetic stare. It's far softer than is normal and more open I feel entirely comfortable with. It's reasonable, though. Eiji is important to the both of us, and so is Haruka. This matter is difficult not just for me, but for him as well. There is sympathy and comfort in equal measures when one is not the only person to suffer. I had that disadvantage with my team. I know how much that hurts. And I cannot blame my captain one bit.

"It's ridiculous," he concedes. "If I were able, I'd put a stop to it. The Captain-Commander tried and didn't get anywhere either." This perks me up a little, brow furrowing.

"You mean this wasn't ordered by the Gotei 13?"

"No. This came directly from Central 46."

I'm dumbfounded. "Did they want Haruka and Eiji brought in tomorrow? Were they the ones to push that up? It would normally be a bit longer, wouldn't it? I didn't think the Onmitsukidō would be that rude."

If my jab at the Onmitsukidō amuses him, Hitsugaya doesn't show it. He's back to being tense and on edge again. "They did. They get twitchy when efforts to bring someone they direly want into custody take too long."

Shaking my head, I slump into my seat a little. Orders from Central are absolute. If Kyōraku and Hitsugaya cannot fight them, I have no hope of doing so. A hand runs through my hair, and I ignore the small parts where my fingers catch on the knots accrued throughout the day. The sting of hair being pulled is a welcoming sensation to remind me not to slip into fatalism. "How long are they going to keep them?"

"They won't keep Eiji more than a day, as I said," he starts. "He's young and there's not much else they'd be able to get out of him. Haruka-san they'll keep longer. I can't give an estimate. Of anyone, she's who they would suspect of harboring information the most."

"She's _not_ ," I mumble, a halfhearted protest that honestly does not need to be said. I say it anyway.

Hitsugaya's lips twitch a little as if he's fighting a grin. "I know. They don't, however. They're throwing out all of the interviews we conducted. Their argument was that you and I have a conflict of interest in regards to Eiji." A disbelieving bark of a laugh emerges from my throat before I can stop it.

I close my eyes. "We didn't even _conduct_ those interviews with Haruka. Those were handed off specifically to Division 8 so that there _wouldn't_ be any confl—" I sigh heavily. "Never mind. It's a moot point now, I suppose."

"Still, you're not wrong," the captain says wryly. "In any case, while there was nothing I could do to stop them from questioning Haruka and Eiji, I _was_ able to convince Sui-Feng to allow for you and myself to be present tomorrow when they're taken in to custody on the basis that it would be easier on Eiji. I assumed you would want to be there."

I almost want to laugh because he's completely right. "Yes, of course. I think…I think that would be best. This is something I want Haruka to hear from me, not some faceless member of the Onmitsukidō. Thank you." He inclines his head.

"You're welcome. They are going to collect them at 14:00. We're to meet them at the gate to Junrinan."

We both stand, going through the motions of courtesy, though one could argue that the current situation sort of alienates the two of us from such things. I bow politely. "Understood. And…thank you for telling me. It means a lot, and I appreciate it greatly."

Hitsugaya sagely responds, "You have more stake in this than most. It would be wrong if I didn't." I only smile awkwardly in thanks again, turning and striding towards the door to the office.

I've barely slid it open when my name is called once more. "Kozaki-san." Confused, I turn. The confusion only deepens when I'm met with my captain, once more seated at his desk, with an actual grin on his face. Turquoise eyes express more mirth than I've seen on the man since I was transferred. It…suits him, I find, even as it takes me aback a little. This, apparently, only amuses him more.

"Y-yes, Captain?"

He chuckles, picking up the brush on the edge of his desk and shuffling paperwork around to finish up the remains of a stack. "Your stutter. You lose it when you're angry."

I…what? Blinking a few times, I think back on the conversation. Red begins to flush my face a bit as the words I spoke, and their tone, return to me.

However, it takes Captain Hitsugaya glancing back up at my frozen form with a raised eyebrow before the moment breaks. I can't help it—I break out in laughter at the ridiculousness of such an observation, laughter that lifts some of the gloom and follows me all the way back to the barracks on the backs of green-blue eyes and a rare smile that I'm finding myself being less and less wary of.

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_ Yeah, "emotional lyrics"-Yoshiko was TOTALLY listening to MCR on that MP3 player. Completely. I've been in an emo/alternative/pop punk mood lately, so.

But yeah, we have some plot points. Don't hate me too much. There's a definite method to my madness.

R&R!  
-Sneak


	9. A Nightmare in a Dream

_**Curtain Call**_

 _ **By:**_ _SneakAttack29_

 ** _Disclaimer:_** I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I'm just a very stressed individual writing to de-stress and borrowing characters and settings to do it.

 _ **Quick Author's Note:**_ It's been a bit. I got busy with midterms and finals, then my internship over the summer, then crazy shit happened, and then midterms again. I'm also working in one of my classes to get a drug recovery and assistance initiative established on at my university and it's proving to take up a chunk of my time, energy, and willpower. Not totally, though. I also started another fic because I'm stupid, so yay me!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a little short compared to how much I usually write, but I'm tired and have too much shit to do tomorrow to add more. Plus, this was a really good cutoff point.

ENJOY!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 9:**_ _A Nightmare in a Dream_

* * *

" _And I'd like to wake up and be gone,  
like a real bad memory.  
Like a nightmare in a dream._"

-Abandoning Sunday, "Patience"

* * *

 **I can't look anyone in the eye.** If I look anyone in the eye, be it my captain or the four Onmitsukidō who are travelling with us the short distance to Junrinan, I will let the tears fall that are building steadily behind my eyes. That is not something I can do right now. Later, once all is said and done. But not now in front of so many people. Not when the pain of it all, the weakness, is clear and plastered to my face. Not when my mask is crumbled, cracked, and creased. Not when I am going to be the one to break the news to my best friend and my godson that I cannot do the job that I have unconsciously assigned myself. I cannot protect them from this. I cannot protect them from this mess of an investigation, this mess that I still believe I have caused.

It hurts. So, I can't look them in the eye.

The Onmitsukidō cell is rather nondescript, though I suppose that's the point of them. The cell leader is a stony woman named Shikimoto Nozomi, rather plain with dark hair and green eyes that are unremarkable. She spoke once when Hitsugaya and I met with the team at the gates and that was to simply say her name, polite if a little brusque. If the three men following her had introduced themselves, I missed it. This day has me out of sorts for obvious reasons, and I think both Shikimoto and my captain realize this quite easily.

"We will take Tatsuyoru-san and her son into custody from here," Shikimoto is saying, though I barely notice her words. I am lost in my own misery. Fūmittsu as well is uncharacteristically silent and melancholy. For all I preach to be different when she annoys me, she as my zanpakuto is a part of me, and thus shares my value of Haruka and Eiji. I am affected by this, and so by extension is she. "As you probably know, the boy is likely to be released first. My team will be handling the investigation from henceforth."

Hitsugaya nods. There's a hint of grim beneath the façade of professionalism, but even I can barely divine it. "Yes, we are aware." Shikimoto's eyes then slide to me. I feel their weight bearing down on my bowed head. I still do not look at her.

"I do not agree with your presence," she addresses, clipped. "But it was requested and approved by the Captain-Commander. I would hope to say this is unnecessary, but I ask that despite your… _relationship_ …to the subjects, you conduct yourselves professionally. We want to avoid the child becoming agitated or causing a scene."

I wince; however, I am fairly certain it goes unnoticed. Hitsugaya sends the woman an icy stare—I can practically feel it on the wind. While the statement implies the both of us, it is directed at me, and both myself and my captain are painfully aware of that. And the ice-wielder does not take kindly to the threat behind the woman's words. I appreciate the pique on my behalf even though it is by necessity merely token.

But a thread of incense does mingle with my guilt. "Subjects," she said. "Child". I'm on a level furious at the objectification, the depersonalization. Haruka and Eiji are _people_ , dammit. While I understand that there is a necessity for it, a reason, and that it is honestly justified… My train of thought stops suddenly. Grey-hazel eyes close with an inaudible sigh. _This_ , I think. Perhaps I _am_ too close to the matter. Objectivity is something I stress. It is something I upon which I pride myself. I cannot stay purely detached from this.

Damn it all.

"You do not need to worry about Kozaki-san and my conduct, Shikimoto-san." The captain's tone is curt and warning. She doesn't miss it.

"Good."

No more comments are made as we walk swiftly through the first district. While the time I walked this stretch so many years ago with Captain Hitsugaya seemed to dredge on like molasses, this jaunt unfortunately flies. We are upon Haruka's Western-style house in what feels like moments, and I shakily inhale. I am not ready for this. I have to be, but I'm not.

Shikimoto takes a step forward towards the door, ready to knock. "Please," I say quietly, timidly. My voice is strained, and I wince at it. "May I?" I feel several sets of eyes on me, though I'm unsure if they are because of my daring or because this is the first time I've spoken. However, the Onmitsukidō woman's plain jade stare is perhaps the heaviest. She considers me thoroughly for a few moments. I still cannot look her in the eye, but at least my gaze has gained enough courage to linger somewhere around her chin.

"…Fine."

Politely dipping my head in thanks, I try to walk calmly to the wooden slab with dignity and my head held high. I don't quite manage it, staring at the only thing separating me from what is sure to be one of the hardest things I've ever done, trepidation leeching my confidence away as swiftly as it tugs at the tears threatening me. But there's a semblance of confidence, and I'll take what I can get.

If my hand is shaking when I lift it to knock. I ignore it. The urge to call Haruka's name is smacked down, syllables dying upon hitting the lump in my throat. She doesn't take too long to answer as the door cracks open rather quickly. Initially, the woman's eyes light up at seeing my form and only worsens my regret, but they turn sharply concerned upon denoting the state of my face.

I was not wrong in believing five years ago that this woman's eyes can burn. They do. Indignation, desire to know, sympathy, fierce protectiveness as she fully opens the door. I do not deserve any of it.

"Kozaki-chan?" she murmurs with concern. Panic sprouts, sharp and poignant when I see Eiji peak out from the door way to the sitting room with a chirp of "Oba-chan!". I don't know if he can sense the tension in the air, but something causes the boy to stop before he can dart over to me. I slide my eyes back to Haruka. But I can't look her in the eye.

It clues her in, I think, and she peers as far over my shoulder as her stature will allow. The Onmitsukidō and Hitsugaya cause her to blink. Another look at me refusing to meet her gaze tells her most of what she needs to know—the puzzle pieces can almost be heard as they click together in her mind. Her exhale is sharp, quick, and edged with fear. Widened dark eyes land on my face. I cannot look at them.

"I'm sorry," I rasp. Haruka exhales again, a shaky hand moving to cover half of her face. Then, it does something curious. Casually, the appendage rubs to the side, landing on her cheek with her fingers canted back. It's nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary. I wouldn't have thought much of it had her index finger not ever-so-slightly tapped at her earlobe. And I only saw it because I _couldn't look her in the eye_.

The shake of her head isn't suspicious, but I note it regardless as the way her eyes are locked on me makes it heavier. I only get the message by sheer force of luck. Honestly, I'm amazed I get it at all despite how muddy my mind is.

 _Not the MP3 player_ , is what she says without saying. _Don't give them the MP3 player_. It's by the grace of stoic professionalism that I do not react with suspicion. The green device currently hidden in a neat little cubby in my quarters is supposed to be innocuous. It is not supposed to mean anything. It is supposed to be a trinket, a token. But it is from Tatsuyoru, and I have been suspicious of it anyway from the day I received it. I am, in many ways, neither surprised that it holds meaning nor that Haruka is aware of it.

There is something important about that MP3 player. It is something Haruka does not want to be seen by the Onmitsukidō, and a notion with which I am inclined to agree.

My nod is subtle, carrying a double meaning. Haruka cries a single tear of both exasperation and gratitude. It makes fighting mine all the harder as I back away a little to allow the nameless stealth members to gently, to their credit, lead Haruka out of her house. Official words are spoken, but I don't hear them. One of the men steps into the house to collect Eiji, and I watch with dead eyes as he kneels to speak to my godson. The boy's purple eyes do not leave me despite his conversation. Thankfully, he is too intelligent for his own good and gets my silent urging to comply.

I step beside Hitsugaya again to regretfully watch Haruka and Eiji be taken away by the Onmitsukidō. Shikimoto lags a little, sending the two of us a sharp look.

"Hitsugaya-taichō," she says. "Kozaki-san. On behalf of the Onmitsukidō, you have my thanks for your contribution to this investigation. I formally relieve you of your duties to it and assume them in your stead. I also am to inform you that due to the questioning of Tatsuyoru Haruka being more extensive than that of her son's, the boy will be released from our custody far before she will. As the both of you are listed by Tatsuyoru-san to be the boy's guardians in the event that she is incapacitated to that responsibility, he will be released to your custodies upon the completion of his interview. You will be notified of this via butterfly."

My breath hisses out of me. "She listed us as guardians?" I'm dumbfounded, to be truthful. I think Hitsugaya is, too. Haruka has relatives, ones who are somewhat close. I would have expected any form of guardianship to go to one of them, not myself or my captain. I hadn't known she had designated such, much less done so officially. She'd joked, but I'd just assumed…

"Yes."

We are all silent for a moment, processing and patiently waiting appropriately. Hitsugaya finally gives a short nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you for informing us." Shikimoto jerks her head without speaking and turns to walk. Something, however, falters her for a brief moment. I'm startled when she partially turns to look at me.

"Kozaki-san," she calls. "A word of advice. Tatsuyoru Haruka trusts you implicitly despite your…past. I would not, were I you, take that lightly." I can barely process the ice that settles in my gut before she flickers away in a burst of _shunpo_. The tone of voice she used saying "past" …

 _No_ , I think, panicked and trying desperately to hide it. _No, no, no, no._ A pair of eyes I try to stamp out of my head flash through it in a vivid memory. I can almost feel blood dripping off my hands, the sour taste of both bile and horror and anguish heavy on my tongue despite merely being a recollection. The woman implies so much _more_ with that one, singular word. More than she ought to know, more than I want to remember, more of something that should be dead and gone and _buried_ and something that I want to leave far in the _past_ where it belongs.

I try to swallow all evidence of how much that word affects me when I turn to look at my captain. He is looking at me, trying to gauge the expression upon my face. I can't decipher what he's thinking, what he sees. I simply hope it is not anything telling. "Are you alright?" A spoken inquiry, something abnormal for him. I try not to flinch.

"I don't know." Whispering without hesitation, I look down at my hands clasped politely in front of me. He will not buy an attempt to brush off what just happened, and I don't think I could give one anyway. Hitsugaya falls silent once more, pausing. A beat and we are making our way back to Seireitei in a silence that is neither awkward nor companionable. It is simply _there_ , and I am grateful for it.

* * *

" **Oba-chan!"** calls a gleeful almost-five-year-old as he is led into the receiving room in Division 2. He makes a bee-line for me the minute he lays eyes on my person, and I am able to give a small smile that is not fake and forced for the first time in a day and a half as I embrace him gladly. He grips me as tight as his little arms can and climbs into my lap. I can't bring myself to reprimand his conduct as I normally would, instead gathering him to me tighter. Thankfully, the Division 2 member who accompanied my godson into the room with the release paperwork smiles at us, not offended in the least at the lack of manners in the display.

"Hey, Spider-Monkey," I say softly, daring enough to plant a kiss on the top of his dark head as I brush his bangs from his forehead.

"They told me that I get to go home with you and Oji-san for a while!" he says, happy as a clam despite the situation. I grin into his hair. That's Eiji. "They're asking Mama a bunch of questions and said it'll take a few days." I feel him frown a little once the words escape.

What he says next breaks my heart a little. "Oba-chan, do you think Mama's okay? The lady who took us here was kind of scary." The other Shinigami in the room gives my godson a sympathetic look as I tighten my arms around the boy, sitting adjacent to where I am at the low table. The paperwork he was holding is now spread on the table. He is marking areas that I presume need to be signed.

"I'm sure she's perfectly fine, Eiji." I run my fingers through his bangs again. "Your Mama is a very strong woman." The boy pauses but eventually nods into my neck where his face is buried. I take that as a win.

The Shinigami smiles gently at me, pushing the papers towards me. I grudgingly lift a hand to accept the brush and begin scrawling kanji on the designated lines to accept custody of Eiji. "These are just formalities to document that Tatsuyoru-kun has been released to you."

I nod with a final flourish of ink and gently push the papers back to him. "Thank you." He doesn't need to tell me that they garnered nothing of interest, note, or merit from Eiji, nor does he have to acknowledge that they were not expecting to. Formality or not, the purpose of taking the boy is psychological. Rile Haruka with the knowledge they are also questioning her son, shake myself and Hitsugaya for the fact that they have the child at all for something with wherein he had no choice but to be involved. I find it sickening and grip Eiji a yet a little firmer before letting him go and urging him to stand so we can leave.

We don't make to too far out of the division before I find myself carrying him, not that I complain. He nestles himself into my arms, content with the motion, the silence, and surely the presence of someone he knows. He is not traumatized—the Onmitsukidō would not treat him poorly. However, the separation and unknown had to be on a margin terrifying, and I feel for the boy wholeheartedly.

His little face is pensive, actually, when I look to it. "You alright?" Purple eyes blink up at me before a slow nod gives me my answer.

"How long will Mama be gone?" he asks. "They said they were looking for someone. They said they were asking Mama about it."

I purse my lips. "Yes, that's right. I wouldn't expect them to keep her longer than a week or so. Don't worry too much, Spider-Monkey. It'll fly by before you know it." A thought rushes through my mind, perhaps genius in scope, and I smile brightly.

"No, I do believe you and I have a date with some ice cream since I had to cancel on you, don't we?"

His eyes light up. "You said we have to go see Oji-san!"

"Pfft!" I scoff, waving a hand. I'm thankful for the empty street—I would never be this flippant about my captain otherwise, and it's making Eiji grin. "Your Oji-san can wait with his paperwork for a little longer. I haven't had my promised Eiji time. Though, I suppose we can grab some for him, too."

"Yay!"

Chuckling at his renewed enthusiasm and the dissipation of the cloud that had decended over the cheerful boy's head, I take a detour down several streets to where I know a decent ice cream shop is located within Seireitei. Eiji is not supposed to leave the white city until Haruka is released and we get the go-ahead from Division 2, so I cannot take him to our usual haunt. He doesn't seem to care much, however, as he is still able to get his coveted chocolate ice cream and slurp happily at the cone. My small container of cookie dough to eat instead of bothering with a messy cone supports another small container of the watermelon sherbet I have in the past several years become aware my captain favors. I don't usually agree to get the ice cream to go as Eiji typically makes a mess of it, but I do have a bit of a time limit despite my uncharacteristic rebelliousness and reason I can clean the boy up at the division. He already has chocolate smeared around his face a little, and the cone is, indeed, dripping. Some of it gets on my shihakusho since I'm carrying him. I'm chagrinned but suppose it will wash out.

Detouring to a washroom once entering Division 10 to clean the worst of the stickiness off of my godson (thankfully, he'd finished his cone on the walk), I attempt to tap into some of Fūmittsu's ability to slow the molecules of air surrounding the ice cream in my hands. I'm no true ice-wielder like my captain, but I think it works somewhat to keep the frozen masses from melting any more than I'm sure they already have.

"Oba-chan," he asks suddenly just before we come upon the captain's office, tugging a little at my hakama to get my attention as I'd decided to make him walk the halls. "Can I give Oji-san his ice cream?" I quirk a brow but nod.

"Sure, if you want," I gently hand him the appropriate container with a stern look. "Just be careful not to drop it."

He gives me a million-dollar smile. "I won't! I promise!"

I smile. "Good boy. Though, you are aware it's not actually ice cream. I've told you this before. It's called sherbet." His little resolute huff is adorable and the precise reason I said it.

"It's ice cream." Eiji is very matter-of-fact and final on the matter before marching determinedly ahead to the sound of my chortling. I have to slide the door open for him as he's still a little too small to do so himself without trouble, though he does attempt to make the effort.

Captain Hitsugaya looks up from his paperwork as the roaring ball of energy skips into the room. A smile twitches at his lips that I do not miss, and there is relief in it I cannot blame him for. "Oji-san!"

"Eiji. You two are late." The words are aimed at me along with a raised eyebrow. A sheepish smile is the response he gets from me, and Eiji's is exuberant as always.

"Oba-chan let us stop for ice cream!" The container is placed upon Hitsugaya's desk as soon as Eiji reaches it, though the boy adorably has to reach on his toes to do so. "We brought you some, though!"

The Shinigami laughs wryly before patting the boy on the head affectionately. "Did you? I suppose I'll let it slide. I take it you behaved yourself?" Eiji stands a little straighter and, dare I say it, puffs his chest out a little. His nod is attempting to be firm but is only adorable.

"I _definitely_ was!"

"He did deserve it," I interject in the child's defense, finally moseying the rest of the way in the room after closing the door behind me. I sit on the sofa and twist to face my captain over the back of it. "Handled everything like a champ. Plus, I needed to make due on my promise from last week."

Hitsugaya nods to me before turning back to Eiji. "Good. I need to talk to your Oba-chan. Go find the books Matsumoto keeps in here for you, okay?" My godson nods and runs over to Rangiku's desk as he's told, not one to disregard a request from his godfather. That boy practically worships the ground Hitsugaya walks on. I'd never thought to see Hitsugaya Tōshirō interact so well or so closely with a child, and if one would have told me such would be the case five years ago, I'd have laughed hysterically.

"What is it?" I ask, breaking out of my musings as the captain rises from his desk, apparently deigning not to ask me to move. He instead sits next to me on the sofa. It's surprisingly casual, and I'm further surprised by how little that bothers me. The entire situation we're in is, to put it bluntly, fucked up. Kinship and understanding is there in equal measure as he fixes turquoise eyes on me, and it's a combination I can somewhat regretfully understand. Fūmittsu whispers to me to trust him, to not be so wary. I try, though I know that I fail in a lot of ways. Still, she reminds me, this is progress.

"How are you?" He repeats the same question from the day before, and I'm ashamed of the way my throat constricts a little. "And be honest, Kozaki." With the way his gaze is piercing, I know he will not believe me if I lie. That doesn't stop me from trying.

"I-I'm fine," I shrug, trying to be nonchalant. The return of my stutter gives me away, unfortunately. "As m-much as I can be. Th-thank you for asking, though." I give no other indication that I'm caught quite soundly in my mistruth, and he seems to let it slide.

He reminds me quietly, "There's nothing wrong with not being fine." It's an invitation to talk, and I'm grateful for it. Wary and not going to call on the offer, but grateful nonetheless. "I have a captain's meeting in a half-hour. Could you take Eiji to my quarters and keep an eye on him until the meeting is over? I was intending to have him stay with me. There's more space."

I blink. I don't know why I'd been assuming the boy would stay with me, didn't even realize it, but as soon as the words register, I find disappointment dripping onto my mind. However, his reasoning makes sense. Eiji is actually a very active child, and the captain's quarters is in all honesty more of an independent house. The extra room for the boy to run around and not feel constrained would be far better than my one-room apartment. "Yes, of course." I also don't miss how the request is phrased as a question as opposed to an order. He is not asking as my captain, but as a…partner? I suppose that is as good a word as any. He is asking as someone who is guardian to the same child I am, and I respect that even as it is mildly awkward.

Eiji's reaction, however, only ends up fueling that awkwardness. "Oji-san, can Oba-chan stay, too?"

I'm mortified. Completely and totally mortified.

Captain Hitsugaya simply stares down at the little boy, taken off guard by the question just as much as I am. "I…suppose. You'll have to ask her, though." I whip my had to him so quickly, I feel a vertebra crack.

 _Seriously?!_ My eyes stare at my captain, round and panicked and questioning.

He looks back at me with a sheepish and simple _I panicked_ written all over his face.

 _SERIOUSLY?!_

A small shrug is the conclusion to the nonverbal argument that I'm still amazed the two of us can carry before the little manipulative terror of cuteness is turning his wide eyes upon my weak-willed self. I whimper a little.

"Oba-chan? Please?" The last word is drawn out in that begging way kids are wont to do. My brow twitches in an attempt to learn to say _no_ to the kid already. But I can't do it. I can't.

I am mortified and so, so, _so weak_.

"F-fine," I squeak.

My fate is sealed by one stuttered word. Kami have mercy on my soul, I think as Fūmittsu giggles echo in my mind.

* * *

 _ **Final Words:** _ So there we have it. Some stuff, some implications, some mystery, and a little angsty drama because hells yeah. Yoshiko's past is something that is going to come back to haunt her in more ways than one, and I in a very morbid way, am excited for it. I hope it keeps you all entertained because it's going to be a roller coaster.

Hope you liked! Until next time!

~Sneak


	10. Gravest Mistakes

_**Curtain Call**_

 _ **By:**_ _SneakAttack29_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples.

 _ **Quick Author's Note:**_ This is the shortest chapter to date, and I'm sorry it is so short. This and the last chapter could have probably been a singular one, but combining them just seemed like too much. I'm not going to ramble much here, so without further ado, I give you chapter 10!

Enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 10:**_ _Gravest Mistakes_

* * *

" _Even your gravest mistakes shouldn't stop you from moving forward._ "

-Edward Elric, _Fullmetal Alchemist_

* * *

" **Oba-chan, why is your room so plain?"**

From where I'm over by my closet packing clothes away into a small bag, I peer over at my godson in a little bit of shock. The dark-haired boy is standing in the middle of what amounts to a small one-room apartment, looking around at the emptiness with curiosity. I blink a little before I return to setting the hakama in my hands atop the other stacks of folded fabric. "Why do you ask?" Purple eyes don't look at me as he shrugs in that offhand way children sometimes do.

"It's just…empty. Mama says that when you decorate, it means those things are special and you want to see them all the time." I note an edge of depression in his voice, and a frown tugs at my lips. I see where this is going. Guilt washes over me.

Turning, I motion for him to come over by me, so I can speak and continue to pack for this impromptu "sleepover", to use Eiji's words. "I see. You know I have an office here, right?" He nods. "I keep most of my important things in there. I'm not in my room very often unless I'm sleeping. I won't see anything in here if I'm sleeping, now will I? But when I'm working, all I have to do is look up, and there are things to remind me of who and what I love and why I do what I do, why I am a Shinigami." He pauses, kneeling next to me as he chews over my words. For being only five, Eiji is smart. Scarily so, and he understands far more than someone his age should. An old soul, Haruka calls him. It's appropriate.

"But if you keep them in here," he says slowly, "then they're the first thing you see when you wake up! The first thing I see when I wake up is the picture of Chichi-ue." A pang echoes through my chest at the mention. Haruka ensured early on that Eiji knows who his father is. The boy does not know that he is alive, though the thought that Tatsuyoru is dead remains hazy and something skimmed over. The woman has enough sense to know that children, even those as smart as my godson, can talk when they shouldn't, and the boy knowing that his father is alive isn't a good idea. However, none of us could bear to lie to him outright. We are all aware that the ambiguous answers bother him, but it's an unspoken rule to leave it lay at this point. Though I'm sure that given a few years, Eiji's patience to leave it be will run out, and the questions will begin in earnest. Until that time, all he has as a reminder of who his absent parent is remains an old photograph from the man's academy years. The formality with which he refers to the former Fifth Seat is either out of distance or respect, and no one has been able to figure out which.

I smile, and I'm afraid it emerges sad despite my best attempts. "I see your point. I confess that I never thought of it that way. Would you like to see my office before I take you to your Oji-san's apartment? This isn't the only room of mine you've never seen, now that I think about it."

"Can I?" he asks with a blossoming grin that I know means he is more than amenable to the idea. I nod lightly, and he gives a cheer both in response to my acquiescence and to the motion I make to give him permission to look around the room some more. Eiji is a curious being, and there's nothing here that could hurt him.

However, what I did not remember is that there are things hidden here that can hurt _me_. Things I apparently did not hide as well as I first believed.

A tap on my shoulder as I am fastening the last of my spare uniforms and casual wear drags me out of my mental checklists to see Eiji standing behind me. Something is held in his hands, something I cannot make out. "This is pretty, Oba-chan. You should wear it!" His smile is innocent as he drops the object into my confounded hand. However, the glint of metal and chain that I see causes me to freeze.

No.

I'd forgotten about this, stuffed it away in a corner since I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it for stupid reasons of which I've long since lost recollection but still feel compelled to obey.

I know this necklace.

I remember it.

And I wish I didn't.

* * *

 _ **The wind is soft**_ _as it whispers through the pines of the Seventy-Third district. There's a chill upon it, hints of a cold winter in an even colder world that I do not look forward to. However, for the moment, I'm glad for the dusk frigidity that bites through my unseasonably thin kimono. Ten years ago, when I first stumbled across this hut and this man who took me in, the cold was something I knew to fear. Something I knew to run from because at the end of the day, it meant freezing to a second death if one did not find adequate shelter. Doing such is something extraordinarily difficult to accomplish when one is a lone child in a far-out, shambled district that cares not for anything beyond self-interest. Especially so when one is a child cursed with the need for the ever-so-scarce commodity that is food._

 _With a final huff and swipe of my brow to clear it of chilling sweat, I finish packing disturbed soil atop the hole beneath a tree I had been filling in from where I had dug it out earlier in the day. It nears sunset now, so my task took me the whole span of daylight hours. My stomach growls to second the realization. I am not allowed to eat until my given chore is completed, which it thankfully is as of the last armful of dirt._

 _"That didn't take you near as long as it did last time," a voice calls out from behind me as I stand straight again. Within milliseconds am I whirling stiffly to face the approaching figure. In this instance, the person is blurry as are the rest of my surroundings. A hazy dream, hazy memory. "You're getting quicker. Good."_

 _My head is bowed as has been beaten into me quite soundly. But this crushing and enduring gratitude, this deference, is something I'm quite happy and more than willing to show. Praise is a rare thing from this man, something I yearn for more than my next breath. "Thank you, Nii-sama." Where my long hair, the length something determined for me by my brother years ago, hides my face with my head dipped, I secret my eyes shut tight. He doesn't like me not being impeccably aware of my surroundings, but I deign a moment to allow myself to beg the fates for this to go smoothly, for once. I beg for the chance to finally prove that I am not a burden to Nii-sama after all these years of abject failure._

 _"Hm? What's this, now?"_

 _Trepid, my eyes quickly snap open, hazel grey locking on something that makes my throat sink to my stomach. Something gleams on the sparse grass, something that quickly disappears within the grasp of my brother's palm when he bends down to scoop it up. I recognize it quickly as a trinket, nothing special, that must have…must have escaped the confines of what I was instructed to bury. Nothing was to be spared, it was all to be encased by the earth. No trace was supposed to be left._

 _No._

 _Not again._

 _"_ Yoshiko _," he chides once the small tinkling sounds that indicate his fiddling with the necklace have ceased. "Look at me." I allow myself a final wince before I clear my expression and comply. Well, try to clear my expression. I can feel my eyes tugging wide, scared, enticingly apologetic and overwhelmingly regretful all in one. My brother's gaze is cold, sharp, and puts the cutting breeze and memories of harsh winters to shame. Without fail, this look is always intense, bitter, bleak, biting, far too much._

 _He sighs, shakes his head, and tuts at me. "Why do you always have to disappoint me, child? It was a simple task."_

 _"I'm sor—"_

 _"_ I didn't say you could speak _," he growls, which makes my jaw snap closed with a_ click _. I barely restrain a whimper. I barely keep eye contact. His hand fists further around the metal in his hand, so much so that it causes it to grind against itself with a cringeworthy scratching, and he is angry now. "You disobeyed me. I clothe you, feed you. I took you in off the streets and ensure your survival, and this is how you repay me every time! Ungratefulness—I taught you better." He appears to relax some once the urge to scream seems to dissipate and his volume lowers. Another sigh, and he uncurls his fist to study the trinket settled neatly in his palm. A fuzzy, wry smile, a shake of his head, and he allows the pendant to dangle. Kindness, I think it is, causes him to ignore the tears leaking down my face._

 _"A souvenir of your own, is it?" he asks. "Is that why you left this out? Did you think that you could sneak this by, something to remind you of fond memories? You may speak now, and do not lie to me, Yoshiko-chan." A strange flutter of…_ something _strikes me at the sound of my name. I can't understand why. Distaste? But it is my name. I am not supposed to dislike my name. This name my brother so graciously gave me when he did not need to dignify my existence with one—I am meant only to love it, be grateful for it, be pleased of my luck to have it._

 _There is another flutter, one I am more familiar with that fills me with an even stranger context. Fear. Fear of my brother, but fear that is not of the unknown. This is fear for my life. And I do not know why. He saved me, after all._

 _He will not accept the truth of it, that it was an accident. And he is far more likely to punish what he does not want to hear. "Y-yes. I w-wanted the rem-minder, Nii-sama. I wished t-to b-be like N-Nii-sama."_

 _A slow, lazy smile spreads across an otherwise stoic face. I feel like cheering. Yes! I said the right thing!_ I said the right thing!

 _"Of course, you did. Hmm." Suddenly, the necklace is tossed at me. I fumble but catch it. "You may keep it."_

 _I am quick to clutch the chain that I never wanted to my chest and bow deeply. "T-thank you, Nii-sama! I do n-not deserve y-your k-kindness!"_

 _"I give it still. However," he chides, and I hear the frown in his voice, "as you did not complete your task competently, you are not to eat. Those are the rules. And I expect quite the haul tomorrow, understand? Something from…oh, the Seventieth district would be acceptable." So, he means the Sixty-Eighth, then. I wince into my bow. The distance will be near impossible to cross in time. But I will do it. I will not fail again._

 _"Yes, Nii-sama."_

 _"Now, let's get your new treasure around that neck of yours, and then it is to bed with you."_

 _I turn obediently to let my brother fasten this trinket of memory around my neck, facing the lump of disturbed soil that it would reside in had I not made a mistake. The weight of the pendant, a glazed purple hyacinth that is simple yet still expensive for this far out in Rukongai, settles against my chest. It is too long for me, but I will grow into it._

 _One more glance at the pile of dirt is allowed before I turn to the ramshackle hut in the distance, the packed soil one of a line consisting of around twenty more mounds of disturbed earth. A thought occurs to me then. I do not recognize it until later, much later. A small, strange whistling accompanies it that I ignore. I will think this more definitively as the years go on, as will I grow to hate my name while the one day grows nearer and nearer._

Monster _, I think unknowingly._ Kozaki Kiyoshi is a monster. My brother is a monster.

 _I grip the pendant tight in my hand._

* * *

 **I gulp and tremor.** A huff of air leaves my lips, and I try to school my features before I look at Eiji again. The memory plays out behind my eyes, the fear, the cold, the bite of metal into my palm, the hunger that was not sated that night nor the next. Years ago, I think. So many years ago. My fingers not encircling the damned hyacinth pendant dig into the floorboards beneath me to the point of pain, reminding me that I am in my barracks in Squad 10 and not the forested clearing in Rukongai amidst piles of dirt and beneath trees that speak of too many secrets.

"Oba-chan?"

The title bestowed upon me by this little boy is the final key to grounding me to the present reality, and I snap back into my body as if tugged by a rubber band. The feeling is refreshing, if not draining at the same time. The smile I give him is weak as I hide the necklace away behind my fingers.

"This…," I start, taking a breath and pausing as I try to figure out how to phrase what I want to say. "This is a memory, Eiji. But it's one I haven't been able to bring myself to face yet."

He frowns, staring at my hands contemplatively. "So…it's not a good memory? Why do you keep it?" I reach over to a nearby cabinet to place the necklace within its depths, making a mental note to remember it is there so as to later tuck it away in its designated spot out of mind. Once that is done, my previously occupied right hand reaches out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

I advise, "Even bad memories have lessons we can learn from. And sometimes, they're reminders that keep us from making the same mistakes over again. Or we sometimes cling too tightly to the past and have trouble letting go. It depends on the memory, and it depends on the person."

"Why do you remember it, then?"

My hand moves to comb through his bangs, silent a moment. Eyes roving across his curious face, his little head tilted cutely. However, his stare is serious. Understanding. I say it a lot, but this boy is wise far beyond his years.

"It reminds me of my regrets. And my mistakes." His nose wrinkles.

"That doesn't sound like fun."

I chuckle. "It's not, but sometimes it's necessary." The nose wrinkles even further.

"…If that's what it means to be an adult, I don't wanna." My chuckle turns into a roaring laugh as I shoulder my bag, stand, and scoop Eiji into my arms. In light of our conversation, I'm willing to forego my rule that he walks on his own when inside a building for the sake of the comfort and grounding his weight brings me.

Tapping his nose, I say, "Oh, Spider Monkey. That day won't come for a long time. You have nothing to worry about."

"Are we going to go see your office now?"

"Of course!" The fake cheer slowly becomes less forced and more real as we meander down the halls. A few Shinigami we pass give Eiji a grin and a wave, by now used to seeing the boy in the Division with either myself, Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, or, on occasion, Haruka. He never fails to bring a bit of exuberant cheer, and I know I'm not the only one to appreciate that.

We don't take too long to get to my office, and I slide the door open with perhaps a little more showmanship than is necessary. "Ta-da!" My godson giggles as I let him down to explore, figuring I can grab some paperwork to do while I watch the boy at Hitsugaya's.

That still sounds weird…

Opening cupboards and sifting through bookshelves with joy written all over his face, he climbs onto my desk chair after a few minutes of having to touch everything he can to watch me rustle through paperwork and take in the items splayed about. "The fan on the bookshelf is pretty!" I smile.

"Your Mama got that for me a few years ago at a festival. You weren't there, you were too little." I explain. "Said it matched my eyes."

"What about that painting?"

"Oh, that? I'm not sure. It was here when I got the office. You'd probably have to ask Akiyama-san, I think it was his. This used to be his office before it became mine, actually."

"Why do you have so many books?" He cranes his head to look over his shoulder and back at my bookshelves. True enough, they're almost overflowing with books and some scrolls, and I sheepishly rub the back of my neck at the realization that I probably need to cave and buy another one already.

My laugh is weak and guilty. "Well, don't tell your Oji-san, but sometimes I read when I'm supposed to be working. It's a bad habit." He laughs, a conspiratorial gleam shining in his eyes. He seems to be amused by the idea of keeping a secret, and I'm chagrinned to wonder how long it will be before Hitsugaya is giving me that stern raising of an eyebrow and telling me to mind what I do during work hours. I give it three days.

He nods, opening his mouth as if to speak when his eyes catch sight of the picture frame perched on the corner of the desktop. Instead of words, he gasps, leaning forward as much as he dares to point at it.

"That's me! And Oji-san, and you, and Mama!" My eyes dart to it, taking in the humorous sight of Haruka prying a three-year-old Eiji off of Hitsugaya's hair, me ugly-cackling like a madwoman to the side. "Mama keeps one in the living room!"

I nod. "That she does. Your Oji-san has a copy, too, but I don't know where he keeps it." Eiji just gives a face-splitting grin, jumping down to make another lap around my office. I shake my head fondly, gathering up more paperwork. A moment of silence lapses that is broken only by my shuffling through stacks of paper and the boy's soft footfalls. At least, it is silent until…

"Oba-chan, do you love Oji-san?"

I choke on air.

" _E-excuse m-me!?_ " Coughing, I'm sure the look I shoot my innocent-looking godson is a cross between incredulous and crazy with a dash of slowly-combusting face. "I—wha—I don't… Why on _earth_ would you ask that?"

He does that head tilt thing again. "Because you said earlier that you keep things here so that they can remind you of who you love when you're working. You keep that picture on your desk, and you love me and Mama. Oji-san is in there, too, so don't you love him?"

"I…I, uh…" I stutter, fumble for words because I'm not sure how to phrase this so it doesn't sound bad. Of all the questions to throw at me, it had to be that one? "Well, y-your Oji-san is technically my superior, Eiji. He's my boss."

Eiji blinks. "Why does that matter?" I know I'm blushing a quaint shade of vermillion, floundering hopelessly.

"B-because there…because it's not…because it does!" I squeak. "I have to keep decorum! That…that's entirely unprofessional!" I groan, facepalming. "Please, love, for the love of all that is good, _please_ drop the subject."

I swear I hear him giggle, but I can't prove anything. "Okay."

"Thank you," I sigh, returning to my paperwork with heat still scalding my face. Thankfully, the boy seems just as content to return to his moseying instead of continuing to pry. More silence, a bit awkward on my part this time around, ticks by until I gather the last of my work and motion to take Eiji by the hand on the way out.

I feel like knocking my head into a wall when he speaks a singular question halfway out of the Division, though. "Oba-chan, what's ' _unprofessional_ '?"

This is going to be a long few weeks…

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_ That flashback scene took a lot out of me to write, I'm not going to lie. I have PTSD myself and flashbacks can be touchy. However, they're exceedingly important to Yoshiko's development, and it wouldn't feel right of me to try to depict PTSD without staying true to what it actually is. Yoshiko handles it very well and very silently, but flashbacks and panic attacks and triggers can come out of nowhere. And that is important.

Some translations:

 _Chichi-ue:_ Father, a rather formal way of saying such.

 _Nii-sama:_ Brother, again a rather formal way of saying such.

I'm not going to say too much more because I'm exhausted and have to work in a few hours, so. The next chapter shouldn't take too terribly long (famous last words, I know), and I'm really excited. Things are going to start picking up a little from here on out. Mystery and plot twists abound. Be prepared.

R&R!  
~Sneak


	11. Six Feet Above

_**Curtain Call**_

 _ **By:**_ _SneakAttack29_

 _ **Disclaimer**_ : I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples. I just own my OCs.

 _ **Quick Author's Note**_ : So this was fun. I'm on a roll. Not sure how I feel aboout that.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _ **Chapter 11:**_ _Six Feet Above_

* * *

" _I'm bleeding on the inside, the fear before the fall.  
Six feet above the next time I lose it all._"

-Evans Blue, "Beyond the Stars"

* * *

 **Eiji finds himself disappointed at Hitsugaya's apartment.** I admit to feeling a little amused when we walk into the space, which I have never been in, to find it rather plain and utilitarian in the same fashion as my own room in the barracks. My captain spends a majority of his time in his office when he is not in meetings or running the rare mission in the World of the Living similar to myself, so I am expecting his home to be bare of much personality. Besides, the man does not strike me as the decorating type.

Every time thus far that someone has stayed overnight with Eiji, it has been at his and Haruka's home in Rukongai. He has never been within mine or Hitsugaya's quarters before, and I worry that his acclimation to the change in routine will not be a smooth one. He, however, takes quickly to the situation, drawing on some scraps of paper I brought with us in short order, so it appears as if my concerns were for naught. I join him at the low table I presume is used for dining and slough through my paperwork for a few hours before the boy begins complaining of hunger. This puts me in a bit of a bind as Hitsugaya has apparently not finished with his meeting. I'm aware that they can and sometimes do take most of the day, overrun with circular arguments as muttered about often by both my current and former captains. I eye the small kitchen warily, not sure if I dare the awkwardness or not, but another complaint and puppy-dog eyes from Eiji swiftly make up my mind for me.

It speaks a lot, though, I think. Captain Hitsugaya trusts me far more than I would have believed, far more than I think I deserve, far more than I could hope for being originally from Division 5. Allowing me reign of his home without him here, even though it is to keep an eye on Eiji while he cannot (perhaps _especially_ now), is something that could be considered a severe invasion of privacy. Even a threat in the right cases, I realize. It would be nothing for me to search through his things and find something, anything, that could be a weakness. That he trusts me to not speaks volumes I can't put into words adequately.

He still does not arrive by nightfall, and I convince Eiji to go to bed despite the child whining that he wants to see his Oji-san first. The excitement of the past few days probably makes my job easier than it would be normally. He's tucked in rather soundly in the spare room Hitsugaya had directed me to before we left his office earlier to fetch my things, and it is the same room I will be sharing with my godson for the foreseeable future. I still can't entirely believe Eiji conned me into agreeing to this…

Refusing to admit that I am becoming a little worried, I stay up working on the last of my paperwork. My pace slows in increments, though I pretend it is due to fatigue that my brushstrokes begin to creep carefully across pages instead of give crisp, quick swipes of ink to paper. Once the stack is gone, I'll no longer have a valid (not embarrassing) reason to remain awake at this hour. I ignore, as well, my eyelids trying to droop.

Fūmittsu apparently finds this hilarious enough to jeer at me. "Really, Yoshiko?" I'm only mildly surprised to glance up and see her projection sitting casually to my right, next to where I had placed her when I began my menial task hours ago. She has been able to physically manifest for a good few decades now, something I've kept a quiet secret mostly because I have no real idea how to handle the situation. I've never had much desire to go forward with training my ability to use my zanpakuto—the fact that I have apparently struggled my way to a state rather close to bankai is not something I really care about. I'm sure Captain Hirako or Rangiku or maybe even Captain Hitsugaya would scold me for my lack of ambition, but most of that died when Tatsuyoru became Fifth Seat and decided my life needed to become more of a living hell than it already was. Apparently, all for the _valiant_ purpose of making me stand up for myself. My eyes roll at the thought.

I raise my eyebrow at her. "You're actually out? That's rare." My eyes study her form. Fūmittsu appears to me as a quiet, reserved young woman, hair far darker than my own mousey brown and eyes a swirling, molten silver. She holds a face that never seems to twitch out of a calm, serene half-smile that would put the Mona Lisa to shame. She wears variations of grey kimonos, and today it is a relaxed yukata smattered in embroidered depictions of birds of paradise. The blues and oranges of the flowers are a bright contrast to not just the kimono but also to her general monochromatic appearance. There's something of a light breeze stirred up by her visible presence as occurs on the rare times she decides to show herself to me, softly tangling invisible fingers through her long, pin-straight hair as well as mussing my own curled strands.

"You are being stubborn," she replies in a chiming, bell-like voice that always sounds vaguely whispered and as raspy as a summer wind on leaves at the same time. It is a unique combination that on anyone other than a zanpakuto spirit would be impossible, contradictory in every sense of the word.

Her words are said matter-of-factly, as if they are succinct enough to explain away every question ever asked. I snort. "I believe the fact that this is nothing new has been discussed, hasn't it?" Silver eyes gain a twinkle of mirth and mischief that only makes sense once one thinks of ways wind could be viewed as sly.

"You can do well with a reminder from time to time."

"Fūmittsu, you're hysterical," I deadpan sardonically. Her hoarse laugh reinforces the already well-known fact that she is teasing me, something she enjoys doing more and more since she gained the ability to manifest. I don't mind it all that much since it is for all technicalities only me teasing myself. I know the Third Wind is not actually insulting, just as she is more than aware that I am not actually bothered.

She gives a mock bow of her head, a bit of theatrics accompanying the gesture. "Why, thank you kindly for noticing!"

"Are you going to tell me why you're really here, or are you going to make me guess?"

It is my zanpakuto's turn to raise a brow. "Do I need a reason?"

"No," I shake my head, dropping the brush and giving up on the last few documents. "But you usually have one anyway."

"You have not visited me in a while, and those bricks of yours also crumbled a little today," she admits, intuitive as always. "You need someone to talk to who is not Eiji-kun."

I huff, "Thank you, but I'm fine." The look she gives me is reminiscent of a disapproving mother when her child misbehaves. In a lot of ways, Fūmittsu acts like a parent to me. I oftentimes don't know if I appreciate the sentiment or chafe at it.

" _Stubborn_ ," she all but sings. Grey-hazel eyes roll skyward in exasperation.

"You are _me_ ," grousing, I lean my elbows against the tabletop and rest my head in one of my palms lazily. "Everything I think of, you already know. Talking to you is practically a waste of breath. No offense."

"None taken," she replies smoothly, though she is still not entirely pleased with me. "But you are still stubbor—"

My hand moves from my cheek to covering half of my face as I groan. " _Please_ don't finish that word. If you keep saying it, then it's going to do that thing where it loses its meaning, and the next time _I_ have to say it, it'll sound weird."

She laughs. "When would you ever have to actually say ' _stubborn_ '?"

"Great," I intone back without missing a beat. "There, you've done it. Now when I have to go accuse Akiyama-san of being that or chide Eiji for it, I'm going to think back to this conversation and blame you for this. I never knew one could feel so betrayed by their own zanpakuto."

Fūmittsu in a lot of ways is everything that I am not while also reflecting everything that I _am_. My interactions with her are easy, flowing, and sarcastic in a way that I would not dare be otherwise simply because I am more than comfortable with her. However, where I am naturally shy, she is not afraid to speak. Where I am timid and meek, she is firm and unyielding. I am awkward stutters and silent professionalism where she is all sharp tongue and laconic wit. At the same time, she matches my preference for quiet, for calm, for peace, for passivity when the situation does not direly call for otherwise. Wind is not stagnant, it flows. Breezes can be gentle, yet maelstroms can be unrelenting. Fūmittsu is a living contradiction of the similarly finicky phenomenon she embodies, just as I am a walking contradiction of living death that should have died again years ago many times over. She and I are contradictions to each other, to ourselves, in ways that are also strangely complimentary. And thus, the cycle begins anew.

Fūmittsu laughs again, either from my thoughts or what I said, but her features school themselves quickly. The end of my musings, as clear to her as if I'd spoken them, seems to have sobered any mirth. "You have not recalled that memory in years, decades. It scares you." She's very matter-of-fact in such a way that any arguments will be swiftly deemed null and void.

"In a way," I sigh, resigning myself to the impending therapy session. "You know how jumbled they can be, even when they're walled off."

She nods. "Yes. That memory has more blood than you remember. More pain." I wince almost violently at the mention I'd rather leave lay, but my zanpakuto shakes her head. "That is a fact you consciously block, Yoshiko. You'll discard it again in a few days." She's not wrong.

"I don't want to remember at all," I whisper. Broken, I think is how it comes out. Choked. I let my façade down and surely appear for all intents and purposes as the frightened child I am not, yet frequently feel.

"You learn from it."

"It _hurts_."

She laughs. "That is the point, dear. You learn from pain. You grow from pain as much as you do joy. It is exactly as you told Eiji earlier. And can you honestly say that you would be the person you are today without it?"

Protesting weakly, I huff, "You're using my own words against me. That is entirely unfair."

"I am merely repeating lessons you have already learned but to which you have refused to listen," she hums, placing a cool, comforting, maternal hand on top of the one I have splayed across the table. "But my point still stands. You would not be you."

"If by ' _person I am today_ ' you mean a mess, then you're _spot on_." My tone is sharp, intense, and almost acrid. Biting. It causes Fūmittsu to send me her patented _I'm disappointed in you and you should feel bad for it_ look. I'm so used to it by now, it hardly fazes me—she's going to have to find a new guilt trip.

"You're not a mess." I'm not expecting a new, terrifyingly familiar voice to echo from behind me and towards the open doorway into the room. "You're probably the most organized person in the division. If anyone's a mess, it's probably Matsumoto."

Jumping, I twist to look wide-eyed at the person standing casually a few feet away. "C-Captain! I—t-that's not what I meant!" How much did he even hear? Fūmittsu snickers in my head at the vitriolic curses I silently spew at her, as I know for a fact she was completely aware the other Shinigami was approaching while I was so focused inward and embarrassingly oblivious. I'm sure my face is twelve shades of tomato.

Hitsugaya simply shrugs as he moves further in the room, removing his zanpakuto, Hyōrinmaru, to place it next to him as I have done with mine so as to sit at the table to my left. "I'm aware. It does not make it any less truthful." His ease with a strange person in his home is indicative that he has realized the woman to my other side is a materialized zanpakuto, likely having analyzed her reiatsu and noting its mimicry of my own. The strange breeze, gentle as it is in an otherwise still room, probably also helps.

To my unending horror, Fūmittsu points almost _flippantly_ to my captain. "I like him. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one trying to knock sense into you."

My glare to my zanpakuto spirit is probably more cutting than I intend it to be, and it probably has far less weight to it since I think my blush darkens tenfold. "F-Fūmittsu!"

"Oh, no. You were doing so well with the stuttering, too," she groans, her exasperation almost exaggerated for the sake of showmanship. Can I turn redder than I already am? I feel like I'm going to find out. "You really need to work on that, dear."

With a groan of my own, my chagrin with the whole situation overrides my innate reflex of propriety in the presence of a superior officer, and my head drops into the cradle of my left elbow. I cannot move my right arm since my zanpakuto's hand has gripped the wrist in a vice, likely to try preventing my penchant for hiding behind my arms. Fūmittsu openly smirks. I'm not brave enough to try figuring the expression on my captain's face. "Why are you like this?" She doesn't even deign a response. I already know the answer anyway, it was all rhetorical.

I don't know why Captain Hitsugaya is being so quiet and so allowing of the situation. I would have expected him to not be keen on the frivolity and casual nature of my interaction with my zanpakuto, but for some reason, he seems amused. Interested, even. However, as soon as _I_ notice, _F_ _ū_ _mittsu_ notices. I panic suddenly, head darting up to look at her with aghast eyes as I immediately am aware of her next intentions.

"You see, Captain," she starts. I know where this is going, and I squeak quietly, "Yoshiko tends towards stuttering because she, in actuality, has crippli—"

With an overwhelming, perhaps dizzying, level of mental fortitude mixed with just the right dash of desperation, I tug at the hand Fūmittsu holds. Without preamble, she vanishes as I forcefully suppress her reiatsu and all but shove it back into her uchigatana. The sword actually slides a few inches with the force of it. Of course, I'm rewarded seconds later with a pounding, stinging, _slashing_ headache from her pouting, and I'm panting heavily from the exertion as I have the two other times I've done this, but I manage it for once rather flawlessly. I know my zanpakuto is actually pretty proud of my improvement and control, but she petulantly masks it with hissing whistles and irritation at being so unceremoniously interrupted.

When I finally manage to blink the pain out of my eyes and look to my captain, I'm a little startled to see him looking at me with the barest hint of shock. "You can dispel her manifestation?" Whether he gives this question precedence or is deigning to ignore what Fūmittsu had been saying, I'm not sure. I appreciate it anyway.

Brow crinkling in a bit of confusion, I say, "Y-yes."

"Who taught you?"

"No one." I blink in confusion. "It…it w-wasn't that hard to figure out. Ma-made sense, really. Is…it not supposed to?" I can feel myself start to panic a little. Did I do something wrong? Was this something meant to be taught, or supervised, or otherwise _not done by myself_? Oh gods, did I mess up again?

He hums. "Most people have trouble with the reiatsu control needed to do it, is all." A beat later, and I see his turquoise eyes narrow. It is not in a malicious way, but more considering. "Manifestations of a zanpakuto spirit are exceedingly rare, as well. When did she start appearing?"

I full on smile for once, giggles turning into trying to speak around laughter as I remember just how confusing the incident was. "I-it was twe-twelve years ago, now, I th-think. I just…I woke up one morning suddenly to this strange woman with her face _inches_ from mine. She'd never r-really taken a real human form before, s-so I had no idea this w-was Fūmittsu until she spoke. She immediately went on a tirade, scolding me because I'd apparently overslept and almost missed a squad meeting!" I calm my mirth a little and shake my head. "She doesn't manifest often, though."

"She is wind-type, then?" he asks. I have no idea why my captain is being so…chatty. He's usually quiet and reserved, not unlike myself. Eiji is the exception to the rule for both of us, but by and large, being this talkative is _weird_.

I just go with it, though. "Ah, that's right. I-I forgot, Th-there's not much recorded about her. I don't h-have to use her often."

"What are your abilities?"

I blink, shifting my gaze down to the uchigatana laying innocently, if not dimly, next to me. "Hm. It m-may be easier to show you…if that's okay? It's n-nothing flashy." He gives a curious nod of assent, and I gingerly pick up my zanpakuto and carefully place her in my lap. I don't have to completely draw her to activate my shikai, which is a good thing in such a small place.

" _Himei_ ," I murmur. With a soft glow of light and some effort on my part to stamp down my reiatsu to the bare minimum required to not disturb Eiji or anyone else nearby, I'm quickly left holding my two ragged, dull tanto. I can tell Hitsugaya is intrigued by the form my shikai takes, but he doesn't comment, instead allowing me to give my explanations before asking questions. And explanation I give, the focus and technicalities of such descriptions not giving my mind time enough to stutter. "Fūmittsu is a wind-type, but that is almost a misnomer. What we really control is the air. Wind is simply air put in motion, the final product of a force acting upon the molecules that give air its substance. I can heat them—" A subtle twist of a wrist and a very small flame briefly flutters above my hand for a bare moment before flickering away. "—though once it becomes a plasma, I can no longer manipulate it. I can also slow the air, thus dropping its temperature, and cause whatever water is present to condense or freeze. But I again do not have direct control over this, simply the air that causes it." I again demonstrate, creating a small sphere of fragile ice in my hand. I've always been better with making things explode than freezing them, to my annoyance. "I suppose that part is not too dissimilar to how I understand Hyōrinmaru to work."

"Not entirely, no," my captain admits. "Hyōrinmaru works directly with water, though. No air involved. Your shikai seems to require precise control over your reiatsu."

Biting my lip, I look down at Fūmittsu and listen to her humming in the back of my mind. There is more to it. More to it that I have not told anyone simply because I am actually afraid of the implications of what I can do. But…should I trust Hitsugaya with this? He is my captain, of any of my superiors, he is the one who should know. He silently placed more trust in me by allowing me so freely in his home than I would have expected—perhaps it is indicative that I may… _trust_ him in kind with this.

Fūmittsu bursts a single laugh that is more of an _I-told-you-so_.

"Somewhat," I mutter, finally looking up to see the weight of turquoise set firmly on me. I'm not sure if it is unnerving or comforting. "I…well, it's easier to show, again." Focusing on the ink brush in front of me, I move it to the center of the table for visibility. With a sharp inhale and slow exhale, I relax myself hopefully enough to use a technique I tend to avoid.

My tanto are flipped in my hands to rest against my wrists and my right hand is pushed outward. " _Kiritsukeru_." A small, restrained burst of air dramatically causes the brush…

…to roll anticlimactically a few meager inches across the tabletop. I know how it looks initially to people who do not understand what the purpose is of such a seemingly useless action. However, my captain appears to be paying attention to the thing that truly matters here—my reiatsu.

I turn my left palm up, tanto balanced as my fingers uncurl with only my thumb to hold the hilt in place. My hand rises smoothly a small distance. " _Sakeru_." A millisecond to allow for the ability to get started, and without any apparent warning, the brush makes quick work of seeming to rip itself into unsalvageable pieces. They crumble onto the table, strings of decimated wood and ink-stained horsehair becoming the only hints as to what the formless remains were mere seconds ago. All in less time than it takes to blink.

 _Sakeru_ is definitely the more dramatic ability in my arsenal of four, I'll give it that.

"You appear to fail at a successful attack," my captain quickly observes and concludes without missing a beat like the genius he is noted to be, "but what you're hiding in that wind are bits of your reiryoku that you inject into the target. Your proficiency at controlling your reiatsu is necessary to keep hold of it within a foreign body. And from there…"

I nod. "My reiatsu, provided the target is weak enough or otherwise an object with no reiryoku at all to fight back with, can overcome that of the host and…and tear them or it apart from the inside." The admittance is quiet, a whisper, and shameful. I do not like this facet of my zanpakuto, I do not like how violent it is, how destructive. I do not like how it can be used. I do not like how powerful it has the potential of being.

A brief pause ensues before my captain speaks again. When I look up, I'm only slightly surprised to find that his silence was due to him studying my reaction to my own abilities. "You're afraid of it." I open my mouth at first to deny the accusation, but I falter, finding that I cannot. Surely, the answer is traced in the lines across my expression, irrefutable, something I could deny no more than I could my own zanpakuto.

"A bit," I whisper finally, looking back down. "M-my reiatsu isn't th-that large, s-so, uh…d-doing much of any damage is f-far-fetched, but it's j-just a little unnerving, is a-all." My wince is barely hidden, and I hope it can be passed off as a result of my general unease. In reality, I'm cringing at the sound of my voice stilting every few words. Is my stutter worse, somehow? Am I _that_ nervous?

Fūmittsu doesn't chime in with any suggestions or nuggets of wisdom, so I'm left with nothing.

The usual response to what I just said is usually something along the lines of, "You shouldn't be afraid." But Captain Hitsugaya doesn't say it. He stares at me a few moments longer, true, but there is no judgement in his eyes. No pressure. Just consideration, absorption of my words, processing of their meaning and where they come from. I appreciate it more than I can put into words.

An hour passes quickly before I abandon the awkwardness and politely excuse myself to sleep, but I can't help but acknowledge the feeling of a weight being lifted off of my shoulders. I'm unsure whether it unnerves me as I curl up next to my godson and attempt to lose myself in peaceful dreams.

I should have realized that I'm never so lucky.

* * *

 **The cold is frigid.** The rain is sweltering. Panic and terror confounding all attempts to curl into a ball and shiver until I can't move. A gouge in my side preventing me from moving at all. Desperation and failure in equal measure, fear and anguish and wrath and acrimonious regret. Cold. Scorching. Humid. Arid. All at once and none at all.

I can't breathe. Purple eyes, Eiji's eyes but so much colder and harsh and _wrong_. An empty gaze full of ice and hate. False hate? I don't know. Tatsuyoru's stare. Flat brown irises, chocolate, something that should be warm but isn't, was never. No emotion, save righteous fury when the occasion calls, when disappointment is ensured. Shrieking gales and still nights. Blatant tempests and deceptive calm. A ruined forest. A ruined room. Wrong. All wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong_ …

Echoing roars and corpses and blood and second-death and flaws. Mounds under trees and names forgotten on a stone. Trinkets dropped on grass, angry eyes and cold metal and hunger.

Cold. _So damned cold_. Trapped, left in the dark, hungry—dying, maybe? Dying…grass, rain, sun, clouds, too late, blood, hair, shadows, black and white and turquoise, and a sword left behind; why? Why left behind?

Purple, purple, I'm afraid of purple. Too much purple. Hair, eyes, _ito_ , necklace, flower, sky, necklace, pendant. _Why_ is there so much purple? Purple memories instead of red, all carrying the bad and the wrong and the flawed and the false. Plum instead of blood. An amaranthine book with a mauve marker, a book of nightmares and fear lingering on a desk I'm not allowed to touch after I've grown to be able to see it. A house of horrors, violet blanket, threadbare and tattered and a minor comfort weren't I terrified of the color of the cloth.

 _Shut up_. I wasn't quiet. Whimpers in the night, _quiet_ , _be quiet_. Reprimands for non-compliance echo in whatever space surrounds me, engulfs me, traps me, chains me. Shadows with claws that don't reach. Fingers bruising my wrist, slick with rain and then slick with blood, neither to be pried or shaken off, both meant to teach a lesson. What lesson? Did I learn it? No, I think. Maybe? Dark and dirt and blanket; blood and fear and wind. Similar and different.

" _Failed, betrayed_ ," voices tangle in my ears. A multitude, thirty-one whispers, distinct—I think I cry. " _Quiet, too quiet, not quiet enough. Alone, dying alone._ " Blood. How much blood? I look down at the drips on fingers; they're purple instead of sanguine. I shiver. Thirty-one drops.

Thirty-one, a number important, thirty-one. Thirty-one lessons. Thirty-one days. Thirty-one beads. Thirty-one memories. Thirty-one nightmares. Thirty-one on a page. Thirty-one.

" _This is wrong._ " Thirty-one voices. " _Why are you doing this? This is wrong. Don't you see?_ " Why? Wrong. Why is this wrong? What am I doing? How can I do this? Why am I here, how can I stay?

 _Yoshiko_. I hate that name. I hate my name. I hate purple. I hate my name. Hate the syllables, the characters, the letters, the sounds, this title unwillingly given. _Kozaki_ , I hate the word. I'm terrified of who that is, petrified of who that can become. Who that was. What it means. Hate the name, fear the name.

 _"_ You're done now, little one." Flat brown eyes, flat voice. Blink. Cold purple stare, cold words. "Kozaki, you're done now. _Quiet, be quiet, be quiet._ " Melding voices, brown and purple. I hate purple. Cold and flat. Or, is it flat and cold?

Can I even breathe? I try to curl around my too-small legs; pain lances up my side. Old and new pain. A scar now made. Panic and trembling stiffen my limbs, and I _can't disappear into myself_. Why can't I just…? Blood on my hands, drops, crimson, thirty-one.

 _Wake up._ Wake up? _Wake up. Wake up. Wake up_. Nightmare. Wind. Cold. Damage. _Wake up_. Wake up. Wake—

* * *

"— _ **up!**_ **"**

Screaming and bolting upright, curling in on myself— _finally_ —breathing too much too fast, I clench my eyes so I can't see. I'm sobbing into my knees, trembling as badly as a newborn calf and sputtering for air.

"Kozaki, breathe." I feel like this is familiar, but that _goddamned name_.

"N-no!" Whimpers that mean to be cries squeak past my lips as tears drip past my eyelids. "Don't—name, _no_." My words are nowhere near coherent. In hindsight, why would they be?

"Yo—"

A shriek boils over before I can stop it and before the voice can truly speak. " _NO!_ " I think I hear a click of a tongue, a sound of annoyance that somehow seems to come off as desperate, too.

Suddenly, hands— _warm_ hands—settle on my hunched shoulders. There's a suffocating reiatsu in the room that is _so cold_ , but the hands are not, and the hands are comfort. My shivers slow. " _Shiko_ , then, you need to breathe." Shiko? It's almost too close. Still stings, and it's ironic. "Fourth Child", Fourth Seat. "Death Child", a living curse. It's different, though. Different enough.

Someone should reprimand me for that one, but a whistle that should be there is absent.

"It's alright," the voice rumbles. The hands don't move, but they stay a firm weight that keeps my attention. "It's okay. Wherever you were, you're not there anymore."

I'm not, aren't I? This isn't a void, I can feel. It's material, not fake. A shaky breath, but an inhale still. Two, three, another. My eyes open to be met with a blurry, darkened view of blanket-covered knees. Ruffled sleeves of my yukata, blanched knuckles from gripping my leg too tight. One of the hands, only one, leaves my shoulder to gently coax my other fist away from where I hadn't realized it was clawing at my side, the space where I know a nasty scar claims residence on my flesh. I let it. The reiatsu— _cold_ —is familiar enough, a heavy presence that I recognize. Powerful, but not trying to hurt. It's trying to shield.

"C-Captain?"

A hum, acknowledgement. "You had a nightmare."

 _No shit_ , I want so to scream, finally starting to come back to myself inch by inch. My hand being gently gripped by his own relaxes from where it was tense, as does the one on my leg. I feel my neck slacken, too. Nightmare…sleeping...sleeping…

 _Eiji_.

My head snaps up, finally seeing the white hair and turquoise eyes—firm, yet they hold some level of compassion—that seem to catch my thoughts as they have done for almost five years.

"Where—?"

"Fine," he says brusquely, though not harshly. "He woke up and got me. He's in my room; I'm keeping the worst of your reiatsu contained, but you need to calm down."

Oh, I pale. Oh, gods. I'm leaking spiritual pressure, aren't I? Half of the oppression lingering in the air isn't just cold, it's still wind waiting to shriek. The cold is overlaying it, keeping it still. I pull the wind closer, each draw coinciding with an inhale. It's shaky at first, but evens out by the time I manage it. Slowly, the cold follows with caution. It makes me nervous, but the familiarity of it and yawning eyes I have not looked away from fights off most of the fear.

I whisper, "I'm sorry. I-I don't usually…I'm sorry."

Hitsugaya frowns. "You're shivering still."

"C-cold…" My ever-immortal stutter is aided by the trembling I cannot control. "Cold was b-bad. Cold m-meant I f-f-failed. I always f-failed." A sniffle to fight off tears that threaten again. One slips, but it's brushed away by a warm palm, tentative to touch. I let it, and it rests there as if emboldened by acceptance.

"You're not there anymore. You didn't fail."

"I-I know. I'm sorry." Another sniffle, and a hoarse whisper. "I-is…is he o-okay?"

His lips purse. I still haven't brought myself to look away from his face. If I do that, I may end up back in the void with thirty-one, and I can't handle that. "Worried. But yes, he's fine."

I sigh. "Thank gods." I'm given a considering look, one of many in the past days. I wonder if that's bad. "What time is it?" I ask, ignoring the gaze.

"Early." Indeed, I barely see tendrils of sunlight giving the room a dull haze of blue. "Was it about Tatsuyoru-san?"

Hesitating, I reply maybe a beat too late. "Y-yes…?" It's not a complete lie. Purple eyes and _be quiet_.

"There's more to it," he says, a statement and not a question. It's written on my face, and I cannot look away from his to hide it. A blink is all I can manage. Even that fraction of a second is almost too long.

"…Yes…"

Silence, a look. A stare? No words pass, by now far too superfluous to make much of a difference. No demands to speak are made, and the relief I feel cannot be kept out of my eyes or the surely-furrowed lines of my brow. Finally, he shakes his head. "You're not reporting today."

"Captain!"

"No," he says, giving me another look. "You're not. Can you honestly say you're in any shape to?" I flounder like a fish for a long moment before lowering my gaze to somewhere around his throat, turning my face absently into the steadying hand that still softly holds it.

A sigh. "I…no. No, I can't." The words were more of an order, anyway. A request, but one intended to be followed.

I feel those orbs of turquoise boring into mine, even if I'm no longer looking at them directly. "Could you sleep again?" The notion causes me to freeze with an almost audible snap of tension.

"M-maybe." A rough blink as if a way to physically chase lingering memories. "I have a tea…" He knows what I'm talking about—almost every Shinigami does, has needed it at one point or another or knows someone who has. It's an unspoken initiation into the club of " _Those Who Have Seen Too Much Shit_ ".He was there when I retired for the night, though. He knows I didn't take it. "It was an accident." I don't need to say that, either. He can see it, I know he can. It eases my guilt all the same.

"Try." His voice is soft, requesting. It's almost—no _is_ pleading. The word is out of context, but I get the meaning all the same. A thumb brushes the bone under my eye, soft, and I wonder if it's absentminded. The touch is grounding. I accept it gratefully where normally it would horrify me. What is wrong with me? "I'll take Eiji with me." I only a beat later notice he's wearing his shihakusho. He means now? It's early for paperwork, but then I remember Rangiku and amend that it's probably not.

The protest that crosses my lips is instinctual. "You d-don't have to, I can—"

 _The look_ is leveled at me again. "No, you can't." I deflate. He's right.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says, standing. His hand pulls away, and where it was is left cold in its wake. It's the opposite of what one would expect from Hitsugaya Tōshirō. I don't marvel at it, or at least that's what I tell myself. "Try to rest."

"Why do you care?" The words slip out before I can do anything to stop them. I'm looking up at him from where I'm still seated on the futon, hunched but less so than before, grey-hazel eyes surely watery and bloodshot and swollen, face surely splotchy and red. He stops by the door, turning to look at the mess I must be. A brow is quirked, lips twitched into a bare hint of a smile that speaks volumes for the man in front of me. I'm too out of it to care that I just blurted out something probably insulting, but even if I was, he seems amused by it rather than angry.

He gives me a question in response. It's one that leaves me more confused than I was before, profound in its own way.

"Why wouldn't I?"

I'm alone in the room, uncurled on the futon, blanket pooled in my lap and the hints of dawn peering curiously through the screens, staring at the closed door, the only reminder of his presence being the cold on my face and the befuddlement in my chest.

* * *

 _ **Final Words:**_ Well, that was bracing, huh?

TRANSLATIONS:

 ** _Kiritsukeru:_** "Slash" or "cut at".

 _ **Sakeru:**_ "Split" or "tear"

I hope Yoshiko's abilities didn't seem out of place. I wasn't sure about putting them in where I did, but there's not going to be a lot of combat in this until the end, but I wanted to establish this now. Yoshiko's fear is important. She's afraid of a lot of things, and her being afraid of _Kiritsukeru_ and _Sakeru_ is symbolic of her being afraid of herself, which is crazy important to who she is. I also hope the scene with Hitsugaya at the end didn't seem too weird. She's trying to trust him, I swear.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! R&R!

~Sneak


End file.
